


and you got me now

by pressforward



Series: I'll Prepare a Place for You [4]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Anal Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Penis In Vagina Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Kurapika, Vaginal Fingering, i'm back on my bullshit, porn as an extended allegory for emotional intimacy and healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:46:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28673184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressforward/pseuds/pressforward
Summary: The mission is over, and yet the trauma remains. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  Approximately 7 collected porn-with-feelings shorts.These are standalone, but for the continuity lovers out there: These follow the events of‘When You Come Home’and‘i’ll fall for you soon enough.'Fast and loose chapter titles:1. Disclosure: Shit goes wrong2. (1b) Additional hurt for your comfort3. Dubcon is a bad coping mechanism4. Someone please take care of Leorio5. The dom!Leorio experience6. Leorio takes the strap7. “Be kind to me.”Updates Sunday PM, EST
Relationships: Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Series: I'll Prepare a Place for You [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534757
Comments: 22
Kudos: 133





	1. Disclosure: Shit goes wrong

**Author's Note:**

> No additional warnings apply
> 
> These have actually been in progress since pretty early on in the revision process for ‘When You Come Home’ (because if I don’t have something fun to do during revisions, I _lose my goddamn mind._ ) I’ve always felt there was something exceptionally ugly lurking behind Kurapika’s ‘I lost **something** every time I got back a part of my brethren,’ and that feeling only got stronger with his assurances of ‘I’m better at dealing with monsters in human skin’ and ‘I’ll yield to most demands.’ This is my take.
> 
> Title from ['Wild Roses'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lyjgw3gczgM) by Of Monsters and Men

There’s a very particular way that Kurapika will appear in the doorway of the study and say, “Are you busy?” that actually means he’s _horny as shit._ Sometimes it’s fun to say ‘Yes’ when it’s not strictly true, just to watch him bite his lip and consider whether it’s worth using what little charm he’s picked up, or if he needs to just go sulk about it alone. Sometimes he actually is busy, and Kurapika _will_ go sulk.

But this time, Leorio’s sick of being cooped up with his books all afternoon, and Kurapika’s there with his eyes dark and intent, and so Leorio pushes his chair back and says, “Not even a little.” Which is apparently Kurapika’s cue to stride directly into the study and immediately climb into his lap before he can even get up.

“Oof,” Leorio complains at him, hardly even half-serious, and Kurapika just settles in, hips grinding against his. Then he leans in for a kiss, which pretty much skips every step from ‘sweet’ to ‘filthy,’ because whatever happened, he is randy and he knows Leorio’s good for it. 

All of it’s good, honestly. It’s good that he’s here, that he’s staying, that he’s been in the city and reachable for nearly half a year now, without showing any signs of impatience or of packing up and leaving. Sometimes he has overtime or work trips, but he leaves notes, even if they’re short and nearly incomprehensible. He calls. 

“Bed,” he says low and heated in Leorio’s ear, then nips at it. “Now.”

And he does _that._ Which honestly? Is definitely one of the top contenders for biggest improvement.

Leorio catches his breath, then gets both hands on Kurapika’s ass and stands, bringing Kurapika up with him, which Kurapika only lets him do because it means he can keep grinding against him. Getting to the bedroom is a job and a half because Kurapika won’t let up, and the temptation to give in and just fuck him against the wall or the desk or in the office chair is _insane._

It’d be useless trying to study in there after, though. And they’re adults now, with jobs and shit; they can be classy sometimes.

So he makes it to the bedroom, drops them both on the bed as he’s trying to figure out how to unbuckle his pants as fast as possible. Kurapika’s already mostly out of his shirt, and isn’t really helping by hooking an arm behind Leorio’s neck and kissing him wet and greedy at literally any opportunity. 

“Hey, come on,” Leorio protests, breathless, pants tangled somewhere around his knees.

“I’m trying.”

Leorio rolls his eyes, but Kurapika locks both legs around his waist, and that’s a whole lot more interesting than sassing him right now. Leorio rocks against him, pressing him back down into the bed, and Kurapika just laughs, smug about getting what he wants. Then he moans hungry and low, both hands raking up into Leorio’s hair, and grinds up against him. He’s back to drawstring pants around the apartment, which makes that way nicer. Leorio shudders, then goes in to mouthe at Kurapika’s neck until he writhes.

Then he turns, back to Leorio’s chest, hands reaching back to grab at his waist. Yeah, that’s fine. Leorio buries his face in the curve of Kurapika’s shoulder, sliding one hand around and over his chest, other dipping down to his hips, then sneaking down past Kurapika’s pajama pants and briefs. Later, Kurapika will probably complain about stretched-out waistbands, but right now, his head’s tilted back against Leorio’s shoulder, firm curve of his ass pressed up against Leorio’s dick, and Leorio swallows hard, pulls Kurapika close and slides his hand down further.

Kurapika’s wet before he even gets a finger in. The realization sends a jolt through him, and he leans in to press his mouth to the nape of Kurapika’s neck. “What’s all this,” he murmurs against Kurapika’s skin, and Kurapika just shrugs impatiently against him.

Then he twists partway around and says, breathless, eyes blazing red, “That’s not important right now.” 

“If you say so,” Leorio says, not lifting his mouth. Kurapika’s worked up enough already; Leorio could probably tease him until he begs, which is a nice thought. But Kurapika’s rocking up against him, impatient, and he will lose his mind if he doesn’t get to touch Kurapika _right the fuck now,_ so he slides two fingers in to make Kurapika shudder and gasp into the sheets.

Then Kurapika makes a little shimmy and he’s all the way naked, and Leorio’s dick is paying attention. He presses it against Kurapika, still stroking him steady and shallow. Kurapika squirms against him, and that basically shorts out most of his higher cognitive functions. He slides his fingers deeper in, palm cupping Kurapika's groin, and really gets to work.

Kurapika hasn’t said too much about his junk situation one way or the other, but if he felt like experimenting, they could get him a strap-on and fool around; maybe Leorio could jerk him off nice and slow this same way, Kurapika pressed up against him, bare ass and leather straps. He files that thought away for later; time to focus now. He figures he'll keep this up until Kurapika's nearly wrung out, maybe see what happens from there.

Then one hand closes around his wrist, and Kurapika says, “Leorio,” grinding back, and Leorio gets his boxers off in record time.

He’s barely got time to kick them off his feet before Kurapika’s hand is on him, guiding him in, and that’s when shit starts to go wrong.

He’s sliding one hand up along Kurapika’s back, enjoying the heat, the way it heaves, even the sweat. Then he leans in to mouthe along his shoulder, nip at the back of his neck, and Kurapika whimpers once, strangled and low, turns his face away like he does sometimes when it’s too much. Leorio kisses hard and hungry along his throat and jaw instead, and Kurapika hunches away from him, then goes still. Okay, then. Easy cue. 

Leorio starts to pull back, but suddenly Kurapika’s hand is clamped around his wrist again. 

“Hey,” Leorio says, doesn’t move.

 _“More,”_ Kurapika says, face still turned away but hands and hips pressing closer, needy and insistent. 

“You sure?”

Kurapika just nods, face turning to press against the bedspread, ass pushing back against him. Okay then. 

Still, Leorio doesn’t jump right back in, starts riding him slow and easy, one hand holding him steady. With his other, he strokes along Kurapika’s side, tries to maybe gentle him down a little. He’s gotten stuck in his own head before, but he usually comes out of it fine.

Then Kurapika gasps, guttural and low, and that’s just not a good sound. Leorio starts to lift his hands away, only for Kurapika to turn and look back at him, eyes blazing. Not good. 

“Kurapika?” he says carefully, slowing nearly to a stop, and Kurapika’s shoulders are bunching, hands clenching in the sheets, gaze tracking him with the same feverish look caged animals get in a zoo, and yeah, it’s done. 

He pulls out, careful, and Kurapika immediately twists on the bed, eyes alight and face set like some divine fury, and Leorio holds up both his hands, gets both feet on the floor. Hard to tell sometimes if Kurapika needs his space when he’s like this, but better safe than sorry.

Then it all crumbles, and he says, “Leorio,” voice drawn tight, like he’s naming something he doesn’t recognize. Like it’s something he’s scared of. And that’s… wrong. That’s wrong in so many different ways. Kurapika’s never been scared of him, ever. It has to be something else. 

But even with other shit, Kurapika doesn’t do ‘afraid.’ When something shows up bigger and scarier than him, he does calculating and he does furious, but he’s never once shown he was afraid of anything. 

“Yeah, I’m here. You okay? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” he says, shakes his head. Then he’s repeating it, over and over again. “I don’t know, I don’t know, nothing-- Nothing is wrong. _I don’t know,_ I only—”

“Okay,” Leorio says, slow and careful. “Okay. How about… Do you want to get up?”

“No!”

“That’s fine. Then I’m going to sit back, and how about you do whatever you want. Okay?” He settles back, leaves Kurapika a clear shot out, but also keeps his hands turned palms up, ready if Kurapika decides he just wants a good hold.

Kurapika bolts. Not towards him, but past him, just one naked streak of motion, and then the bathroom door slams shut and Leorio is abruptly alone in the bedroom.

It could be funny. Instead his heart sinks somewhere down past his stomach to flop miserably onto the floor. He likes to think he has a pretty good idea of Kurapika’s hang-ups and sore spots by now. He’s seen most of them in action, but this is new and strange and unsettling, if only because Kurapika’s never run from him like this before. 

Leorio pulls some clothes on and goes to tap on the door. There’s no movement, only the hitched, awful sound of Kurapika breathing. 

“You okay?” Stupid question. “I mean. Obviously not, but… Kurapika. Do you… want to be alone for a little?”

Nothing. 

“Look, you need to tell me you want to be alone, or I will open this door.”

There’s a scuffle, and then something heavy thuds against the door, then bounces onto the floor. Shampoo bottle, maybe. Okay, that’s clear enough. 

He settles his head against the door and sighs. After a moment, he says, voice steady, “Hands behind your neck, okay? Breathe as deep as you can.” No answer, not even a scuff. “Kurapika?”

Something else hits the door, and he jerks back from it, rubs his forehead. Felt weird; startled him a little.

“Okay,” he says. “Whenever you’re ready. I’ll be in the living room.”

He hesitates, then steps away from the bathroom door. It doesn’t feel good, and he hates it, but if it’s what Kurapika needs right now, then it’s what he needs. But everything else about walking away from him feels awful. 

Leorio heads out of the bedroom, closes the door behind him; nicely, even, manages to keep from slamming it. Then he goes to wash his hands and splash some water on his face in the half-bath, runs both damp hands through his hair for good measure. He peers into the mirror, smoothing down his hair. He’s still a little flushed from sex, still kinda hot around the collar, but mostly he looks confused. Not a sexy look, confusion.

He flicks off the light and heads into the kitchen, chest tight. He’s upset and angry, or upset about being angry, or angry about being upset. Something like that. Nothing like that. Something’s wrong and he doesn’t want it to be. Something went wrong a long time ago and he doesn’t know how to fix it, and now Kurapika’s locked himself in their bathroom, hurting and alone.

That’s wrong. Kurapika should be… Kurapika should be _here,_ in his arms, to be held and kissed and kept safe, not shaking and miserable and huddling on his own, just dealing with it. He’s had enough of that. They’ve both had enough of that.

Leorio considers the coffee machine, then goes to fish out the kettle, careful not to grip it too tight. He’s furious, he decides. _Furious,_ because this sucks and it’s wrong and if he’s not mad, he’s going to cry and he might not be able to stop. 

He fills the kettle and puts it on the stove, glares at it until his eyes sting because he hasn’t blinked. Then he gives in and unfurls his Nen ‘aura’ or whatever, lets it spill out and wow, there is a mouse nest right there— Not important. Something blips right out in the bathroom, like a bubble popping or a frog going back underwater, and there’s no trace of Kurapika. Classic.

Leorio bites his lip, figures he’ll risk it. Closing one hand, he knocks his knuckles against the kitchen counter; won’t be as accurate, but also won’t be as risky. Diagnostic stuff is real close-range, and he’s been working on it with the teachers that Cheadle rustled up for him. This’ll just be a little stretch to those basics.

He gets a real good view of the counter and cabinets, inside of the stove, plumbing, wires and insulation, the mouse nest somewhere inside it all, then it ripples into the bathroom. Floor, walls, ceiling come first, then appliances, then… Kurapika.

He’s still there, all folded up. Okay. Still showing small movement, still breathing. Nothing wrong with that. Leorio breathes in, breathes out. He’s getting all worked up for nothing. He’s worried, but there’s no point in having a freak-out. It’s normal to be worried. 

He rubs his hands over his face. This is a reasonable level of worry for his… friend. Occasional housemate. Extremely intimate acquaintance. Zodiac colleague and HR nightmare. His something, or whatever. His someone. Which is ridiculous. Kurapika doesn’t want to belong to anyone. 

The kettle shrills and he goes to take it off the heat before rummaging around in the cabinets. He’s not much of a tea person, outside of cold remedies and sleepless nights, but sometimes Kurapika is, and Leorio has a pretty good stash from well-intended but wide-of-the-mark gifts from the past couple years.

He fishes out the one with the cozy-looking bear, because that bear knows what’s up, and Kurapika won’t really give a shit about which tea he’s drinking anyway. If he even wants any.

Well, Kurapika’s gonna get some tea regardless, whether he drinks it or not. Leorio glares down at the mug, plonks the teabag in, and then sets it aside. A shiver runs through him and he puts his face in both hands, then sighs. It comes out unsteady, and his chest is clenched tight, but he’s not freaking out, he’s not about to cry, and he’s gonna hold it together, because Kurapika’s gonna need him once he comes out of the bathroom.

Leorio takes a deep breath through his nose, lets it out slow through his mouth. One more. And another. Then he rubs his forehead, shifts his weight, pushes down the sick uneasy feeling in his stomach. It’s okay. It’ll all be okay.

And he waits. 

\----

Hard to tell how long it takes until this episode passes. There are no clocks in the bathroom; he has no phone or watch, and he doesn’t count the seconds the way he used to. 

What registers first is that he is nauseous, chest clenched tight, stomach sour and uneasy. Then, that his ass and feet are cold.

Kurapika lifts his head and immediately feels ridiculous. Naked in a bathroom for no good reason, and with no good name for the slight nausea he is experiencing, the unsettling sense of crawling discomfort in his own skin. He settles both hands over the back of his neck. Trauma is… a word. That could potentially apply in this situation. 

His stomach twists and he decides against it. This is not trauma, exactly. Only an unwelcome and unbidden response to a situation that had some similarities to a past experience.

Kurapika resolves not to think about it and heaves himself up. He could shower. He doesn’t want to shower, he wants— an explanation. He wants to be the one giving the explanation. He wants to talk to Leorio. 

The shower is still tempting; he could wash away any phantom sensations and lingering unease, but the last person to touch him was Leorio.

He compromises by washing his face. Already, he feels more settled. The other feeling took him by surprise, was all. There had been little warning. The sex had been good until it wasn’t. All things expected and safe until they weren’t.

And now? He’s not certain. Hard to put a name to whatever unease is prickling at his skin. Is he uncomfortable? Miserable? Upset?

He doesn’t feel any of these, not exactly. There isn’t much emotion at all, aside from a persistent hollow embarrassment and dread. But the face in the mirror is desolate, eyes red-rimmed and hollow, hair untidy, mouth drawn down. He splashes more cold water over his face, does not look again. 

When he finishes and his skin feels less like it wants to crawl off his body, he opens the door. Looking out with one hand still on the doorknob, he waits, surveying the room. Empty. 

Clothes, then. He should be clothed. Covered. Less exposed. He folds his arms, eyes the dressers, then the bedroom door, which has been shut to afford him privacy. Leorio’s doing. It is a thoughtful gesture from someone who understands him well. 

Warmth suffuses him. Nearly, it is a comfort; a sense of belonging most similar to possession, though Kurapika has no right to him. He considers the room, the discarded clothes, the furniture, the bed, with sheets still rumpled from their time together.

A pleasant time that he ruined. 

His stomach drops, but he still walks forward, takes hold of the bedsheets. He smoothes them out, tugs them until they lie flat, realigns the pillows. Then he steadies himself, gets dressed, and goes to open the door.

Leorio is leaning against the kitchen island when he enters, elbows braced, head in one hand. He only glances up when Kurapika takes the seat next to him, then reaches to pour some hot water into a mug. “Hey.”

“Leorio,” he replies, just as softly.

“You okay?”

“I think so,” he says, then in a rush adds, “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, I just didn’t know… Really, you’re okay?”

“Just an unpleasant memory.”

“Seems like,” Leorio says, sliding the mug over to him. He says nothing else.

Kurapika takes the cup, wraps one hand around it. Hot. He settles both hands tightly around it for as long as he can, then presses his palms to the countertop. Then he settles both hands around the mug again, more carefully this time. Finally, he says, “I owe you an explanation.”

There is only a long, heavy sigh. Then Leorio says, “You don’t owe me anything. If you’d like to give it, I’d like to hear it. But only if you want to.”

Hard to say what he wants. He wants to explain with the same intensity that he wants to never explain. He wants the explanation to be done, with no effort or memory of the process. He wants to be past this moment already, without living it.

His stomach twists as he considers. Finally, he says, shrugging, “I had two difficult cases. When retrieving my clan.”

“Yeah?”

“They wouldn’t sell for money,” he says, then falls silent. He cannot think what else to say.

“But you got’em?”

“Yes.” He clears his throat, then swallows hard. As with most things, beginning was easier. “I made deals with them. The eyes for— Well.”

His jaw clenches despite himself, and Leorio tells him quietly, “You don’t have to say. If you don’t want to.”

Kurapika shakes his head, grips the mug. “It’s nothing. I only thought… if there was such a steep price for the eyes of the dead, then. How much for the living?”

“I’m not following.”

“I mean. If I was the last one, then there would be nothing else. Then there could be nothing else.”

“Sounds risky. Why wouldn’t they just take yours?”

“I didn’t allow them to,” Kurapika says sharply. “That’s not what I meant.”

Leorio opens his mouth, then shuts it abruptly. Then he settles his hands on the countertop, folds them carefully, says nothing.

“If they would not sell for money and they could not be coerced, I could offer them an opportunity. One priceless thing for another.”

Leorio only looks at him, gaze locked on his, an obvious unspoken question. His eyes flick upwards once, as though searching for a mark, a scar. Hard to bear the scrutiny.

Kurapika looks back down at the mug between his hands. He wanted—still wants—to explain, but it is proving more difficult than he expected. He could justify it. He could soften the language. He could lay out hint after hint after hint to have Leorio guess and be the one to say it out loud, if he wanted to humiliate himself. 

“I slept with them,” he says finally. “I slept with them and let them wring whatever hue they wanted from me.”

His hands are restless animals, clenching and unclenching, scraping along the countertop. He forces them to stillness. It’s easy to see how this will unfold: There was a price, and he paid it, and he will not regret it, and Leorio will disagree. He will be blamed and he will deserve it.

Good, then. He does not relish the thought, but at least all will finally be as it should. It can be over and he can go.

There’s a slight scuff as Leorio shifts in his chair, then he says quietly, “You okay?”

Kurapika freezes. “I— Yes. Yes, I think so,” he says, though the words catch in his throat. His eyes sting. It is shock, he is sure. Shock only, and nothing else. 

“Did they hurt you?”

“No,” he says, blinking hard, shaking his head. Once. Twice. Then he stills himself, and says again, laughing a little, “No. How could they?”

Him, a Hunter who had bound each of them carefully with a very specific contract. If anyone had the upper hand there, it was him. They could not have so much as laid a finger on him if he hadn’t willed it. The very idea of it is ridiculous. “How could they?”

He manages a smile, though it is strained. Something like alarm passes over Leorio’s face, but it is gone quickly. Leorio lifts one hand and reaches towards him, reassuring, and Kurapika slides back, nearly all the way out of his seat. Leorio drops his hand, his hurt clear in the set of his mouth, but he only says, “Let’s go sit on the couch?”

His tone is very still, too carefully neutral.

“If you like.”

Slowly, Leorio steps back from him, then heads towards the living room. He trails after, circling around the coffee table to the other side of the couch, still standing. Leorio is still looking at him, but he refuses to meet his gaze. He stays standing, not sure he wants to sit after all. There may be nothing to gain from this; he started it, and is not sure he wants to finish.

Leorio will disdain him. Leorio will pity him. 

Leorio offers him a blanket, one hand brushing against his shoulder, and Kurapika flinches from him, does not mean to, flinches again when Leorio startles at it. Leorio recovers himself and says only, “That’s fine,” before he can apologize, but too loudly. Then he swallows hard and sits and says, softer, “It’s fine.”

He is angry. 

Kurapika takes the edge of the offered blanket, pulls it close about himself, settles onto the couch, as far as he can from Leorio. He keeps his feet on the floor; he is not a child, to huddle and cower when he is afraid. After a deep breath, he chances a sidelong glance towards Leorio.

The expression he wears is conflicted, shifting between anger, and something that could be concern, could be sorrow. Eventually it will have to settle into one or the other. Kurapika hopes it will be anger. That would be easier for both of them. Leorio is not shy about his opinions, could pass his judgment, or stand up and pace around the room, and it would be easier not to look at him. 

But Leorio remains on the far side of the couch, very still, arms folded. Finally, slowly, he says, “Kurapika, if you want to talk, I’m listening. And if you don’t, I’m still here.”

He says nothing else after that, only waits there, arms folded, hardly even fidgeting. It is stillness only, not anticipation or impatience. When did he become so comfortable with silence?

Kurapika shifts uncomfortably, then stills himself and looks down at his feet. There’s nothing else he can think to say; he already divulged the whole of it. He achieved his goals. He was not hurt. They could not have hurt him. He succeeded in every way that mattered.

“I would rather not,” he says, and his throat is tight. “Right now. I don’t want to say anything further.”

“Sure. That’s fine.”

It’s too easy. He was certain Leorio would press, would stammer with rage or protest, leap to his feet, storm about. If Leorio had asked, he thinks, feeling sick and uncertain and somehow both relieved and disappointed, he would have held nothing back. 

He says abruptly, “I know I’m reacting badly.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“I would like to.”

“It’s not something you apologize for. Geez. It’s not your fault.”

This is something approaching normalcy. As though nothing more had happened than he was startled, dropped a dish on the floor. He swallows, finds it easier than before, then says in a voice that’s nearly steady, “That’s kind of you to say.”

“Don’t give me that shit. It’s not your fault.”

“It was my decision.”

“It’s not. Your fault.” Then Leorio sniffs loudly. When Kurapika looks, he is wiping roughly at his face.

“Don’t cry,” Kurapika says, dismayed.

“You be quiet,” Leorio retorts, scrubbing his eyes. “You— None of it had to be like this, all right? Things shouldn’t have turned out like this. Nothing should turn out like this.”

“The options were limited. I did what I had to.”

“Kurapika,” Leorio says, voice thick, clotted with meaning. Then he sniffs hard, face briefly obscured by his elbow, but he is shifting towards Kurapika, who tenses. 

If Leorio touches him, he will break. If he allows Leorio to touch him, some part of him will shatter, and he is not ready for the consequences. But if Leorio reached for him, he would allow it. Futilely, he braces himself.

Leorio does nothing of the sort, only sits wiping his face, jaw clenched. “I hate this. I hate that this happened.”

“It was a choice. My choice, and I made it.”

“You shouldn’t have had to!”

“Whether any of it should or shouldn’t have happened will never change the fact that it did. Any of it.” And it is true. Every action and consequence, each link in the chain leading all the way back to his childhood, and somehow he is here. 

“I know,” Leorio says, and he sounds sick with it. He has a kind heart. A gentle nature. “I know.”

He sniffs again, loudly, then shifts on the couch, turning further to reach towards Kurapika, who—

flinches, all the way back, nearly knocking over the lamp on the small table behind him, and Leorio goes very still, then slowly settles back, withdrawing his hand.

There it is again, that strange mix of grief and anger clear on his face. “That’s never happening again. You hear me? I won’t let it. I’m never letting that happen to you again.”

“No worries on that account.” Kurapika manages a grin somehow, sickly and wide and filled with more teeth than humor. “I don’t need anything else from them.” 

“Smartass,” Leorio says, and it comes out both abrasive and half-hearted. He rubs his face, looking aside, then says, “But you can still need things from me, you know. I’m here for you now. As much as I can, I’ll be here for you during. I’ll be here for you after.”

He is generous to a fault. “You shouldn’t say these things.”

“Like you ever cared about ‘should.’”

“Sometimes I do,” Kurapika says quietly. Then, “You should stay still.”

Carefully, he crosses the distance between them, one deliberate slide at a time. He settles himself onto Leorio, legs swinging over Leorio’s knees, and leans very slightly against him, shoulder to shoulder. When Leorio settles an arm around him, he shrugs it off, elbow tucking in close against himself.

Instead, Leorio settles one arm over his legs, lightly, loosely, does not try anything else. If he wanted, he could easily flee. 

“This doesn’t change anything between us,” Leorio tells him. “Okay? Not one single thing. We’ll just keep doing what we’re doing.”

“What are we doing?”

“I don’t know. Hard to say sometimes.”

Kurapika considers it. Then he says softly, “I want things to be easy with you.”

Leorio is quiet a moment, then sighs, heavy and long. “Doesn’t always happen that way. But we’re trying.”

That is… true. Kurapika considers his knees, feels his face setting hard and unhappy. He’s never been content with only trying.

“And it’s not always like this,” Leorio continues. “You know that. It’s plenty easy most of the time. This is just a little bit of an outlier.”

His jaw clenches. He also does not, as a rule, enjoy outliers.“I didn’t expect this,” he says, and his voice is tight, even to him.

“I know. I know.”

“I didn’t want this,” he manages, throat closing further.

“Hey, it’s okay. I know.”

He sighs and gives in, wraps both arms around Leorio’s shoulders and pulls him close, face pressing against his neck. In answer, Leorio folds both arms around him, like it is something he’s been longing to do, like he’s embracing something precious to him. 

“Stay, okay?” Leorio says, still quiet, still gentle. “Stay with me.”

“I’m trying.”

“Try as hard as you can. I know you. No one does as much as you do, so really try.”

“I know. I am.”

“Then that’s okay.” Leorio sighs, then pats his back before squeezing him close. Almost too tight for comfort, but for now, Leorio wants him near, and that is its own form of comfort.

Kurapika shuts his eyes, presses closer. After a moment, he carefully exhales, brings his legs up to curl small against him. Leorio shifts to accommodate, and does not let him go. 

He is suddenly, achingly tired. His arms drop, fold against him as well, between himself and Leorio, and Leorio only rubs his back, hold loosening, says nothing. 

“You’re making this too easy,” Kurapika says, muffled against Leorio’s shoulder.

“Not to be an ass, but it looks plenty hard from over here. You’re tough, but you don’t have to put yourself through the wringer because you feel like you have to. It already takes a lot of guts to talk about this stuff.”

“You’re being too kind.”

“I’m not. I’m really, really not.”

Liar. Another unwarranted kindness. He could distrust it. He could pull away, walk into the study, shut the door. Or walk out of the apartment, leave everything behind him. Anything, so long as nothing could grow its roots down inside him again, so long as nothing could be taken away from him again.

Which is ridiculous, so he does not. He is trying, and it is worth doing. Because it is worth doing, he could choose to believe Leorio. He could at least try.

But perhaps not just now. Perhaps for now he can set it down a moment and only breathe, pick it up again in a little while. In just a moment. 


	2. (1b) Additional hurt for your comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No additional warnings apply
> 
> This and the previous chapter were initially one long piece. The multiple emotional arcs ended up stifling each other though, so I split it into two pieces to give them some room to breathe. Okay to skip this one if you felt like the other one scratched the id itch (idtch).
> 
> Tentative update schedule is Sunday PM EST, universe willing.

He doesn’t remember starting to cry, but when one of Leorio’s arms squeezes him close, he realizes his face is wet. Embarrassing. He presses his face against Leorio’s neck, refuses to look up. The old bone-deep ache is back, nearly unbearable.

It feels like only minutes later that Leorio pats his back. “It’s pretty much dinnertime. You hungry?”

Kurapika doesn’t look up, doesn’t ask the exact time, doesn’t want to know. 

“I’m gonna eat. I’ll get you something.” He starts to get up, and Kurapika presses against him, pushing him back against the couch.

Leorio settles back. After a moment, he says gently, “I’m just getting my phone.”

Kurapika winds his arms back around him, refuses to let go.

“Okay,” Leorio says, then slides one arm beneath his knees, other folding behind his lower back. “Come on, then. You’re coming with.”

That’s acceptable.

Leorio carries him easily, conveys him first to the study, turning slightly to fit through the door before heading to the desk. He considers it for a moment, then shifts his hold so he has one hand free, starts shuffling through his books and notes.

“I don’t remember where I left it,” he’s muttering, occasionally resettling his hold on Kurapika, who doesn’t offer either assistance or to get down. He’s aware that at some point he will be embarrassed by his behavior, but until then, he has no intention of letting go.

Leorio conveys them out to the kitchen next, turning things over on the counter before he makes a small noise under his breath, then heads to the doorway and begins shuffling through his jacket pockets.

“Got it!” he says triumphantly, letting his jacket settle and heading back to the couch. The television flicks on. Then he jostles Kurapika’s shoulders. “You want the combo, right?”

Kurapika nods, declines to look up or speak. Leorio is warm and steady against him; all his other wants are few and far between.

He does not doze. He is too awake for it, entire body wound and compressed like a spring, pressed down and wound tight. Time passes without meaning or substance, but Leorio is there. He is safe.

Then the phone chimes, and Leorio shifts, says, “I’m gonna get the food. I’ll be right back.”

Fear thrills through him, and his head comes up, hands out to grip at Leorio’s fingers, wrists, elbows, anything he can catch hold of as Leorio detaches him every time, saying, voice low, “I’ll be right back. I’ll be right back, it’s okay. I promise I’ll be right back.”

Then he is gone, leaving Kurapika on the couch, alone again.

Hard to take it.

There is a weight in his chest the size of a grave, and it crushes him to the back of the couch, to the arm, to the corner between them. It is becoming difficult to breathe.

An eternity later, the door opens, then shuts again, and Leorio is there, settling onto the couch again. “See, what did I tell you? Right back.”

For a single irrational moment, Kurapika hates him intensely, for having gone, then having the gall to come back. As though nothing had ever happened. Then it vanishes, and he is exhausted again.

He settles further into the corner, too heavy to move. The spell is broken, some of the panic has dispersed, and he is panting, trying to catch his breath again.

“Damn, that bad, huh? C’mere.”

He will do no such thing.

Leorio waits. Then he says carefully, “If you wanna stay there, you can stay, but if you want me to come get you, I’m not dragging you. You have to come here.”

There would be a certain savage satisfaction in making Leorio drag him, but it would take effort. And, frustratingly, it seems Leorio has learned something of patience.

When he shifts forward, Leorio puts out a hand for him, then pulls him closer. Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, Leorio murmurs, “Sorry I had to leave you alone. Didn’t think you’d want to see anyone else, though.”

Kurapika scoffs beneath his breath, still not quite appeased.

“Well, you’d’ve had to go down the hall, then to the elevators, then down to the lobby, with who knows how many people. Didn’t seem great for you, and I thought you’d be a little comfier waiting here. Sorry. There weren’t any good options.”

There never are.

He realizes too late that Leorio is craning down to peer into his face. “Look at you, you’re a mess,” Leorio says quietly, stroking his hair back from his face. “I’m sorry. Come on, let’s eat.”

Kurapika automatically closes his hands around the package when it is passed to him, then leans against Leorio again. The food inside smells… like food, warm and complex and nearly overwhelming, and he turns his face against Leorio’s shoulder. 

There are the small shifts of muscle beneath him as Leorio pops his own container open, then pulls out a fork, but no movements large enough to dislodge him. Kurapika stares at the container in his hands, unwilling to open it.

“Take your time,” Leorio says calmly, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, then takes a bite of his own meal.

Kurapika sighs, wavering and unsteady, then pops the lid open with a slight squeak of styrofoam. He opts for the fork as well, loosens a lump of noodles, and takes a bite. 

It tastes the way it should: savory, salty, oily, some vegetables. It is good, dismayingly so, though he could not say why. He puts the fork down and swallows.

“I am sorry,” he says, hoarse and unsteady, and then cannot force any other words out for an entirely different reason. There are too many apologies to make, too many explanations he’d like to give that would all be inadequate, and they stumble over each other, lock themselves in place. 

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

He has everything to be sorry for. He looks at the container of noodles, cooked with shrimp and vegetables and sauce, and his hands are shaking, so he shuts it, trapping his fork inside. To be sitting here, eating good food with someone who cares for him. Suddenly, he is ashamed.

Leorio glances at him, then focuses again on his food. After a moment, he exhales heavily, then nudges Kurapika with one elbow. “Listen, I know you’re feeling a lot of shit right now, and you’re working through it, but this is literally the least I can do for you.”

“You didn’t have to do any of it,” Kurapika says, throat tight again. “It means a great deal to me.”

Leorio coughs suddenly, thumping himself on the chest. Then he swallows thickly, and mutters, “Eat your dinner. I got the extra shrimp for you.”

“Drink water.”

“Later. I’m good for now. Eat your food.”

Kurapika eyes it balefully. Then he determinedly jabs up a forkful and takes another bite, ready to be nauseous.

It’s still good. He wipes his eyes as Leorio pretends not to notice. Chewing slowly makes it more bearable, so he does. 

In this manner, he manages to make it through nearly half the container before it stops being even remotely appetizing. He shuts the box again. Leorio has long since finished his portion, is leaned back and pretending to watch the television program.

“All set?”

He’s never been particularly good at pretending. In answer, Kurapika leans forward to set his leftovers on the coffee table, then settles back. Almost, things seem easier after eating. He slowly unpeels himself from Leorio, then hunches his shoulders. Leorio glances over at him, and immediately sighs. 

“Hey, c’mon, that’s no good for your neck. Elbows in if you have to, or I can get you a blanket.”

He tucks his elbows in, as suggested, then says, “Blanket. Please.”

“Sure.”

Leorio gets up, retrieves a guest comforter from the linen closet, drapes it around his shoulders. Of course he is still only a guest here, Kurapika thinks bitterly, then rebukes himself for the unfairness of it. It is heavier, is all. It is warmer and recently laundered.

He watches as Leorio settles onto the couch again, looking exhausted, more worn than a simple day of studying should do to him. And of course that is his fault, too. Leorio says nothing about it, only sits with him and watches television, even as he begins to nod off.

The second time Leorio starts awake, he sighs, then hands over the remote before standing.

“I’m going to bed. I figure you’re staying out here,” he says, trailing off, not quite a question.

“I would rather be alone.”

“Then I’ll see you in the morning.”

There's still a question at the end of it, and Kurapika nods, still not certain that is the answer. It must show in his face, because Leorio's shoulders slump, but he only says, "All right then. Good night."

He turns away and begins heading towards his bed.

"Leorio.” 

He stops, and turns back.

"Sleep well.”

"Yeah. You too."

He lingers there a moment, longing plain on his face. Kurapika only pulls the comforter closer around him, does not ask for anything else. Then, slowly, Leorio turns away, and goes into his bedroom.

They can discuss it the next day.


	3. Dubcon is a bad coping mechanism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scroll to bottom for additional light content warnings and quick summary if needed.

It starts out fine.

He gets back home early afternoon, sheds his coat, and Kurapika is there, the little _sneak,_ hands going grab-ass as he says breathlessly, “Leorio. Welcome back,” and how is he supposed to say no to that?

He doesn’t, bends his head instead to kiss Kurapika, who kisses him back hot and filthy. When Kurapika pulls at his shirt, he unbuttons it fast, slides his arms out of the sleeves and lets it drop, stumbles out of his shoes, and lets himself be pulled toward their bed. 

Before they even get through the bedroom door, he’s half-hard because Kurapika’s been palming him through his pants, other hand undoing the little tie at the collar of his own shirt. It’s a nice shirt, Leorio notices distantly. Thin light fabric, maybe some kind of cotton-blend, eyelets to lace the collar shut, except Kurapika’s pulling it open now, enough to see a curve of shoulder, sharp line of his collarbone, and Leorio presses him against the doorframe, then bends down to get his mouth all over that. 

Kurapika makes the most amazing sound, part hitching sigh, part moan, and he puts both arms around Leorio's shoulders like this is the only place in the world he wants to be. Leorio puts his hands on Kurapika's waist, leaves a bruise where it'll only show if Kurapika's wearing that shirt the way he is now, half-unlaced and loose against his skin.

His hands go creeping up Kurapika's shirt, because he can and because the thrill of it hasn't gotten old, maybe never will, that Kurapika wants to be touched like this, wants _Leorio_ to touch him like this. Leorio thumbs both nipples, peaked and perky, and Kurapika shudders, then says low and fierce, _”Down.”_

It's Leorio's turn to shudder. Yeah, he can do that. 

He drops to his knees, has to spread’em to get a better angle, pulling Kurapika’s pants down as he goes, and Kurapika inhales ragged, one hand sliding around the back of his neck. He looks _hot_ like this, from down here. When Leorio mouthes at the front of Kurapika’s boxers, his head goes back, hand raking through Leorio’s hair. Leorio takes the cue and pulls the boxers down, gets to work.

Pubes are a little damp, and he smells like soap, smells like water, smells mostly like himself, just a little muskier. Leorio licks up among his folds, and he's soft and wet and perfect, easy to get lost in. So he does, focusing only on the silky slide of Kurapika beneath him, the acrid salt taste of him, the heat, his breathing, the shifts of his legs around Leorio's head until the heat builds, and Kurapika's hips go up and he comes.

Nothing like it.

Leorio pulls off, gasping and wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. Kurapika still has his head tipped back, eyes shut and mouth dropped open. For a second, he almost looks relaxed. Blissed-out, like nothing could ever hurt him.

Leorio kisses the line of his hip, the slight dip of his waist, starts to tuck his underwear and pants back up from where they’re rumpled around his knees, and Kurapika inhales deep and slow, looks down at him. Then he cocks his head, a little tip to the side, eyes going hungry and intent. “Your turn.”

Leorio’s dick jumps, and he swallows hard, mouth suddenly dry. Oh yeah. That gets him every time.

He gets up, shakes his legs once or twice to get the stiffness out, and Kurapika doesn't wait for him to finish up, tows him directly over to the bed. That's fine; Leorio knows how to deal with that.

“Take that shit off,” he says, tugging at Kurapika's shirt. While Kurapika's hands are busy, Leorio pushes him back on the bed, yanking his pants and underwear the rest of the way off as Kurapika makes a startled little noise. 

"Leorio!" he says, but he's nearly laughing. 

"You let that happen," Leorio retorts. Kurapika notices too much and moves too fast to be totally taken by surprise. 

Kurapika just grins back at him, cheeky and bright, and Leorio's heart does a little flip-flop in his chest. It's _so good_ seeing him happy. 

He goes to unbuckle his own pants, but Kurapika beats him to it, whips them down with his boxers as Leorio yelps, one hand cupping his dick. “Hey! Careful!”

Kurapika flicks a glance up at him, part humor, part challenge, and Leorio sneers back at him, sticking out his tongue. That just makes Kurapika stand directly up from the bed, standing so, so close to him, then loop one arm around his neck, body molding against his.

Leorio moves his hand. He settles both along Kurapika’s waist, strokes up and down before settling at his hips. “Hey.”

“Hello,” Kurapika replies, then stretches up to kiss him. 

It gets real serious real fast, Kurapika’s tongue deep in his mouth, both legs hitching up as though he’s climbing Leorio like a tree, and Leorio figures he can give him a hand. Two of them, in fact, directly beneath his thighs and hauling him up as Kurapika gets both arms around his shoulders and pulls him close.

The tip of his dick nudges right up against Kurapika, and they both groan, but then Kurapika, the opportunist, wriggles a little, sinks further down, and Leorio’s knees nearly buckle. 

“Seriously,” he gasps, fingers tight against Kurapika’s thighs, and Kurapika just nods, then kisses his cheek and does it again.

Leorio wheezes. _“Fuck,”_ he manages, knees bent, then he pitches them both forward onto the bed. “You dirty rat.”

“Pig,” Kurapika retorts, flicking his ear, and Leorio shakes him off, glowering down at him, weight propped up on both elbows.

“Quit thinking about work.”

“Make me,” Kurapika says, then breathes, _“Please,”_ directly into his ear, kisses him so gently at the edge of his jaw, and Leorio groans, slides all the way in.

He feels good, he always feels good, hot and tight and eager. Everything about him is just perfect, the shift of his hips, the squeeze of his thighs, the little sounds he makes.

Then he starts to moan. At first, it’s just a clenched teeth, back of the throat thing. Leorio frowns, slowing a little. “You okay?”

“Keep going.”

Well, if he says so. Leorio gets back into it, keeps going.

And it's good for a little, but then he does it again, and it’s definitely not a sexy gasp. More like… a ‘sutures with no local’ gasp. ‘Digging something out of a wound’ gasp. ‘Last mile on a wrenched ankle in a definitely cursed jungle’ gasp.

But his legs are up high, crossed behind Leorio’s back, hands pulling him closer, raking through his hair, and his hips are still going.

“Good?”

Kurapika nods, eyes shut, head turned slightly aside. 

"Seriously?"

 _”Yes,”_ he says, sharp and annoyed. "Excellent."

Alrighty then.

It’s barely even a surprise the next time. Kurapika still feels great, all hot slick heat, and he’s still reaching for Leorio, pulling him close, kissing him savage, but then his head goes back and he gasps something out.

Just a half-word, caught up in the back of his throat, and his eyes are bright. Not like, glowy-bright. Like, damp and teary bright, which is—

“Okay, I’m done,” Leorio announces, pushing himself up and starting to pull away. “I can’t— I’m not doing this anymore.”

“I can take it!” Kurapika says, clutching after him. “Please.”

“Well, I can’t,” he says, then pulls out careful but not slow, and Kurapika actually whines like he’s been cheated of something. Leorio ignores him and sits back, unsettled and uneasy. He fishes around for the corner of a bedsheet, pulls it over his lap.

Kurapika catches his breath, then props himself partway up and says, “Why did you stop?”

Leorio’s mouth drops open, snaps shut. Then he demands, “Are you kidding me? I stopped because you were freaking me out. And don’t try to say those were ‘dick so good I started crying’ tears, I can tell.”

“It was not my intention to alarm you.”

“Okay, but you did.”

Kurapika goes quiet, then slowly shuffles back so he can sit all the way up, rubbing absently at one wrist. Then he heaves a little frustrated sigh through his nose and says, “Leorio, I don’t see what the issue was here. I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“Yeah, but I’m stopping. You were crying and saying something that sounded an awful lot like ‘No,’ so what am I supposed to think?”

“I…” Kurapika begins, then falls silent. After a moment, he just says, “I suppose you would be thinking that you could believe me if I said it was all right.”

“Don’t pull that one on me,” Leorio warns. “Did you want me to keep going?”

“I think so.”

“You know what that sounds like, right?”

“‘Not a yes,’” Kurapika recites impatiently. “You’re being obtuse.”

 _“I’m_ being obtuse? _Me?”_ Leorio demands, and Kurapika has the nerve to roll his eyes. “Okay, you want obtuse? I’ll give you obtuse: I know you feel awful about shit that happened and stuff that you did, but I’m not gonna be a part of whatever weird punishment you think you deserve, all right?”

That gets him. Kurapika actually goggles at him, baffled and offended and like one second away from denying it, but he shuts his mouth. Score one.

Then he shrugs sharp and dismissive, gaze cutting away. “Fine,” he says, annoyed. _“Fine._ You’re right. Happy now?”

Leorio frowns at him. “No, I’m not happy that you’re upset or pissed off. Obviously.”

Kurapika’s glaring back, completely unyielding. “You’re right, at least be smug about it.”

“There’s nothing to be smug about,” Leorio says hotly, then bites the inside of his cheek and looks up at the ceiling. He’s all wound up, no good at making decisions. Forget flight; this is more like fuck or fight, and he doesn’t want to be interested in either right now. 

He counts down from ten slowly, fully aware that Kurapika’s watching him do it. Kurapika hasn’t said anything yet, but there’s no way he’s not thinking about something, biding his time.

When Leorio looks back down, though, Kurapika slides his gaze away. Leorio sighs, resettles himself on the bed. 

“Come on,” he says gently. “Talk to me. What was that?”

Kurapika just shakes his head, one shoulder lifting in another weird half-shrug. “I don’t know. It was… many things, most likely. I don’t know where to begin.”

“How about from the beginning?” Leorio says. He’s a simple guy; if there’s an easy answer, he’ll take it.

Kurapika hesitates, which… could be good, depending. He rushes into things too much. But then his mouth presses flat, and he’s got that look on his face like he’s thinking things over, _really_ thinking about it, then he shuts his eyes.

“Hey, uh—”

“Shh,” Kurapika says, short and absent. He rubs both sides of the bridge of his nose, breathes out heavy and slow. “I’m not sure— It’s hard to tell,” he says, trails off. 

He straightens briefly against the headboard, like he’s working out a knot in his shoulders. He wriggles them, then lets them settle. Even slower, he says, “It was good… and then it felt— uncomfortable.”

“Okay. Would… Do you wanna tell me about that?”

Kurapika hesitates again. Two in two minutes a bad sign, but Leorio waits, even if he doesn’t like it. Kurapika’s smart, he’ll figure himself out.

He’s working on it now, sitting there with his shoulders heaving, like when he’s got too many thoughts tangling around and he can’t sort any of them out. It’s obvious he’s bending his entire brain on this, and that’s a lot of processing power all honed in on one thing. If he doesn’t start it, he doesn’t like to be touched when he’s like this, so Leorio folds his hands together, tries not to watch him too closely.

Kurapika starts a sentence, stops it. Leorio waits; he’s still picking it over, just needs some more time. After a little, he starts another word, then gives that up too. His mouth works but he chokes, then hunches forward, hands covering his face. Then he starts crying. 

Oh, no. They really hit another sore spot, huh.

“Okay. Okay okay. Come on,” Leorio says, twisting around to pull him close. 

Kurapika comes easy, folds right up into him, trusting and present and also totally miserable. Leorio pats his back, and when he doesn’t flinch, says, “Down we go,” and drops them both back onto the bed, arms tight around him. 

Kurapika nestles into him, and that’s good, that’s right, that’s how it should be. Leorio sighs, curls closer around him, and very carefully, very slowly, starts to stroke the back of his hair.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Kurapika says, like it’s being dragged out of him, and he inhales harsh. “I wanted to— I very much wanted to, but something didn’t feel right.”

“I’ll stop whenever you tell me to stop.”

“I didn’t want you to stop,” Kurapika says, sudden and rushed. “It was… uncomfortable suddenly, and I didn’t know why, and I didn’t want you to stop, but. I also—”

He’s starting to shake, like he’s about to rattle apart. He’s pushing himself too hard. 

“Sounds complicated,” Leorio says, hand still and steady at the back of Kurapika’s head. 

Kurapika goes silent, and that’s fine. Leorio doesn’t move, except to very, very slowly start stroking his hair again. If he wants to talk, he can talk. And if it hurts him too bad, well, he doesn’t have to. He can hold onto it for as long as he needs.

Kurapika swallows hard, then shivers again, fingertips plucking briefly at Leorio’s chest before he turns them away. Feels like he balls his hands up into fists again. 

Then he wipes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and continues unsteadily, “So I thought. If I could just… push through. It could be over.”

Leorio frowns. “Okay, first things first: If I’m doing so bad that you’re thinking it can just be over, you should just stop me right there.”

That gets him a stifled laugh. 

“I’m serious! I have a reputation to maintain.”

“With whom?” Kurapika says, tone going flat and wary immediately, ready to be hurt. 

“Maybe just you,” Leorio says, smoothes one hand over the top of Kurapika’s head. Then he adds, quieter, “Maybe just me.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” Kurapika says, then sniffs, jams his face back against Leorio’s chest.

“I’m not proving anything. This is important to me.”

Kurapika turns that over a moment; if he listens, Leorio can almost hear all the whirring little gears in his head. Then he says quietly, “You’re a good man.”

“Yikes. Don’t set the bar so low.”

“It wasn’t _my_ doing,” Kurapika says shortly, and he’s tensed up again. 

Leorio bites the inside of his cheek, tries not to stiffen up, too. Hard, though—he’s angry now. There’s always something new, some other aspect of all the dumb shit Kurapika tipped himself headfirst into that comes back and bites them both without warning.

He squeezes Kurapika tight, and says, “I’m never letting that happen to you ever again. Never. I am never going to hurt you like that. And if anyone else wants to try it, they have to go through me first.”

“Don’t make promises like that,” Kurapika says quietly. Sounds like he’s stopped crying, but he’s still a little rattled. “It wasn’t… optimal, but it didn’t always hurt.”

Leorio didn’t think he could get angrier, and somehow, there it is. “No,” he manages, swallows hard. “I promise. I swear on my life.”

“Don’t do that.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Leorio says, tries not to make it bitter. He’s not sure how well he does. “You and your bullshit Hatsu. Fuck you. Put a little magic letter opener in my heart, too. ‘If Leorio lets anyone come near me again when I don’t want them to, he dies—’”

Kurapika presses one hand flat against his chest. _“Don’t.”_

“I would rather die, okay? I’d rather die than let anything like that happen again.”

“You’re so overdramatic,” Kurapika says, but it’s soft and tired.

 _“Me?”_ Leorio scoffs. “That’s big, coming from Mr. Melodrama himself.”

“It wasn’t dramatic. It was necessary.”

“Sure,” Leorio says, but the anger’s already gone. Hard to stay pissed when Kurapika sounds so worn-down.

“I’m sorry. To make you worry so much about me.”

“I’m not worried _about_ you, I’m worried _for_ you. Difference.”

“What kind of difference?”

“It’s different, is all,” Leorio grumbles, shifting on the bed. His arm’s falling asleep. “Besides, it’s not something you need to apologize for. I don’t mind. Or… I don’t mind, aside from the parts where I’m worried because you’re going to do something stupid and get hurt.”

Kurapika turns over and sighs, part annoyed, part extra-annoyed to cover up any other feelings he’s having about that.

Leorio squeezes him close again, just a little. “I’d rather know you, all right? So don’t apologize. I’d rather know you, and be worried for you, than not have you around at all.”

“That’s generous of you.”

“It’s not!” he says, sharper than he intended. He swallows, throat tight. “I wanted— I want to know you.”

Kurapika laughs at that, bitter and unhappy. “I am truly sorry.”

“Well, I’m not. Not even a little. I’m just sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

“I didn’t need you. And you were safe.”

“Yeah, but… I wanted you to be safe too.”

Kurapika shrugs, still turned away. “It doesn’t come with the profession. Just look at Gon and Killua.”

“At least they had each other,” Leorio says, tries not to grouch too much about it.

Kurapika shuffles around to face him again, then says quietly, “You can’t protect everyone.”

“Oh, believe me: _I know.”_

“Maybe here,” Kurapika says, reaches up to gently tap one finger against his forehead. Then he lowers his hand, presses it flat to Leorio’s chest. “But not here.”

“You saying I’m stupid?”

“No,” Kurapika says, frowning at him. Then the lines in his face ease up, and he adds, “You’re idealistic, and stubborn. A good combination.”

“Flatterer.”

“Not at all.”

Leorio snorts quietly. “Yeah, that’s true. You’re mouthy,” he says, drops a kiss on Kurapika’s forehead, then another one. “Rude.”

“Now who’s the flatterer,” Kurapika says, one hand pressing over Leorio’s mouth, but it’s fingertips only, and he’s starting to smile.

Leorio grumbles, nips at them in the least sexy way he can think of, which only makes Kurapika snatch them away and laugh once, quietly. Good. 

He tucks his chin over Kurapika’s head, bundles him even closer, which just makes Kurapika exhale shakily, then loop one arm around him. And even that’s progress, him reaching out at all. Making any sort of claim. Even when it’s been right here and waiting for him for years. 

And sure, Leorio says he could date a lot of other people, but that space for Kurapika would always be there. Of course it would. He’s sharp and clever, a rude little walking contradiction of impulse and intellect, stand-offish fake manners and a refusal to give up on anything. Except himself.

Even that sends a shiver down Leorio’s spine. It was a close one, when he was real bad. Way too close.

“Hey,” he says, “I love you. You know that, right?”

Like most times, Kurapika doesn’t answer him, just stays where he is on the bed, overthinking it. Then he reaches up to take Leorio’s face between both hands, then kisses him, deep and slow, keeps kissing him, slowly pushing him to his back on the bed.

Then he pulls back and props himself up on his elbows, studies Leorio. After a moment, he says, “I would like it if you stayed in my life.”

“You got it.”

Kurapika settles on top of him, like a sweat-sticky pressure blanket. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to say ‘thank you’ for stuff like that,” Leorio says, rolling his eyes and linking his hands together behind Kurapika’s lower back.

“Thank you.”

“I love you,” he says again, and Kurapika goes quiet. After a moment, Leorio nudges him. “Come on. Try your bit, your ‘you don’t know what you’re saying, you don’t know what you mean by that,’ all that jazz. Go on.”

Kurapika flushes, then buries his face in Leorio’s shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re referring to,” he says stiffly.

“That’s what I thought,” Leorio says in satisfaction. Then he squashes Kurapika close, kisses the top of his head. 

He feels good and safe and warm. Right here, all in one piece. Leorio sighs, nestles closer. If he’s gonna stay, Leorio’s not gonna let go. He must doze off, because he drifts back into consciousness with Kurapika touching him sweet and slow, one hand petting over his chest, then along his ribs. It feels nice. He’s been doing that more often, a slow gentle stroke. Like he’s handling something he wants to linger over, like he wants to remember every inch of it. Feels really nice.

Leorio yawns, chin tucked right over Kurapika’s head. Makes him feel sleepy. He’s warm, everything’s fine, Kurapika’s fine and close by, room’s dark, and he’s— if he’s not happy, this is a pretty good second place.

Quietly, Kurapika says, “I cannot imagine my life without you.”

“So don’t,” Leorio mumbles back, not entirely sure he’s fully awake. Maybe this is a dream. A really nice dream. Kurapika’s arm hesitantly creeps around his waist, then settles. 

“I’ll try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: dubcon, under-negotiated kink, sex as self-harm
> 
> Quick summary: Kurapika tries to power through a bad time, and both he and Leorio don’t enjoy it. Things get kinda dicey and Leorio pulls the plug because he’s uncomfortable
> 
> ======
> 
> What we learn at the start of this is that Kurapika is an ambush predator, apparently. (But we kind of knew that already.)


	4. Someone please take care of Leorio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft content warning in notes at the end

The scene is set. Kurapika surveys the living room. The small accumulations of daily messes have been tidied away, and there are fresh-cut flowers and small candles in glass holders laid out on the coffee table. What’s more, he’s suited himself in some lacy confection more air than fabric. 

Satisfied, he goes to light the candles. He’s hardly finished lighting the last one when there is the sound of the key in the door is louder than usual, abrupt and grating, and he drops the spent match and straightens, suddenly uncertain. Should he pretend not to notice? Strike a pose? What kind of pose? He didn’t think this through, and Leorio is stepping through the door. Hastily, he leans one elbow on the couch, tries to drape himself inappropriately.

“Hey—” Leorio begins, and something in his tone is wrong. Then he looks up in the middle of taking off his shoes, and his voice trails off.

“Welcome home.”

There's a small silence, and then Leorio says, “Oh.” Then he says, “So!” with clearly forced and unsuccessful good cheer. “What’s all this? You look good.”

“Just good?” Kurapika says, stepping towards him, and it comes out wrong, but it’s worth trying. Leorio still won’t quite meet his eyes. After a moment, Kurapika reaches for his coat. “Let me help you with that.”

“No thank you,” Leorio says, drawing back from him. His shoulders are tightening, drawing up.

Kurapika drops his hands, then tries, “Are you… hungry?”

“Yeah,” Leorio says, bends down to kiss him, the press of his lips uncertain. He inhales unsteadily, then shuts his eyes. 

Kurapika lets him breathe a moment, then kisses him again. Still, Leorio responds, but something seems off. 

Kurapika pulls back. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Leorio says, but his eyes are troubled, face creasing. “I’m good, I just— It’s been a long day.”

“How long?”

“Just long. Don’t worry about it. You look nice. You look _really_ nice.”

His voice cracks on the last word, then he shuts his mouth and clenches his jaw.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine.”

Clearly he’s lying. Kurapika decides to do what he does best and throws out the script, takes Leorio’s hand to lead him towards the couch. Leorio follows after slowly, as though his feet are heavy, knees reluctant to bend. Kurapika sits, tries to tug him down after. 

“Sit. Leorio, come sit. Please.”

Instead Leorio stops where he is and looks at the coffee table in dismay. Kurapika follows his gaze, suppresses a wince. The flowers, the candles; all things Leorio had asked if he’d wanted and seemed dismayed by when he’d been ambivalent. He wishes he had time to sweep them away.

“I’ve fucked it all up. Look at all this, you were being romantic. You’re never romantic—”

“I’ll be romantic again—”

“But you were trying so hard this time, look, you got these flowers and that little outfit. It’s cute, I just… I can’t right now. I really can’t.”

“That’s fine,” he says, hand tight around Leorio’s. “That’s all right. Leorio, please sit.”

Leorio sits heavily, as though his feet have been knocked out from under him. Kurapika settles in next to him, takes his hand again. After a moment, Leorio looks him over, then says miserably, “You’re going to be cold.”

“I’m not going to be cold. Leorio, please—”

But he is already removing his jacket and draping it over Kurapika’s shoulders, taking care to arrange it just so. He surveys the results, then tugs at it once more, resettling it, then resettling it again. He’s only fussing now, taking care of what little he can to stop thinking about the things he can’t.

Kurapika shrugs the jacket further over himself, then pulls the neck shut with one hand. “Thank you, that’s enough.”

Leorio looks stricken, then visibly deflates. “Sorry,” he says.

“I’m warm enough. Don’t worry.” 

“You don’t know how to take care of yourself.”

He bristles, since it is patently untrue, then lets it go. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Leorio says, too quickly. “Not a thing. I’m just tired. And really happy to see you.”

Kurapika turns this over for clues, frowning to himself.

“What, can’t I be happy?”

Kurapika raises an eyebrow. “You should try that on someone who doesn’t know any better,” he says, and Leorio grumbles, stands to brush past him and head towards the kitchen, but there’s no heart in any of it.

After a moment, Kurapika gets up and follows him. “Leorio,” he says, reaching for an elbow. It’s twitched out of his reach.

“There’s nothing to be nosy about, so chill," Leorio says tersely, circles around the kitchen island to get himself a glass of water. 

Kurapika stands where he is, considering. Then he goes to pull out two mugs, setting them on the counter before crouching to retrieve the water kettle.

"Tea?" he says, and Leorio just scoffs to himself, then drinks more water, reaches to refill his glass.

"Sure."

It's unusually subdued. Kurapika fills the kettle and puts it on the stove in silence. He retrieves the tea, settles it on the counter within Leorio’s reach. When he turns to fetch a mug, Leorio is already standing in front of the cabinet, pulling out two. They stand in silence until the kettle begins to whistle. Leorio selects his tea, and Kurapika pours the water.

As he readies his own tea, Leorio drifts back to the couch and settles down, staring blankly at the dormant television. Kurapika gives it a moment before trailing after, sitting just within arm’s reach.

Then he tries, quietly, “How was your day?”

“Bad. Quit snooping.” Leorio leans forward, turns on the television. 

“I—” Kurapika stops himself, inhales slowly, lets it out slower. He leans forward to settle his mug on the coffee table and says, “Very well. Do you want any sugar for your tea?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“I’m planning on ordering dinner later.”

“Fine.” Leorio blows on his tea, takes a small sip, expression still stony and sullen. 

Kurapika pretends to be watching the television, and does not miss when Leorio sets his mug down, beginning to blink rapidly. “Do you want to go shower?”

“No,” Leorio says heavily, then rubs at his eyes and sniffs before putting his face back in his hands. “I don’t. But I’m going to have to, right?”

“That’s not—”

“No. I’m going to.” He heaves himself up, makes his way to the bedroom, shuts the door behind him. 

Kurapika stays where he is on the couch, hands fisted over his knees, then gets up and retrieves his phone. He had an order ready to place, cancels it, tries for something closer and faster, then heads towards the bedroom.

From the door, he can hear the shower running, water falling unevenly, Leorio certainly inside and occupied. Safe to enter, so he does, undresses with moderate difficulty and only a little regret. The lace is nice enough, but isn’t really practical. Leorio would have been more appreciative. 

He folds it up, shuts it away. It is not important now. 

He pulls on something more comfortable instead, heads back into the living room to wait for the delivery order, shutting the door behind him. When Leorio finally emerges after his shower, his skin is still flushed, water likely hotter than was good for him. Kurapika does not comment on it, says instead, “Dinner’s here.”

“Great.”

He drops heavily onto the couch again, and Kurapika joins him, pops open the containers. Meat and rice, fish sauce and salad. Leorio is staring at it now, disinterested. Kurapika settles one hand over his, and he jerks it away.

“I dont need you to hold my hand!”

“Then I won’t,” Kurapika says, much calmer than he feels, carefully forks up a bit of meat and holds it out to Leorio, who leans away.

“Don’t do that,” he says gruffly. Kurapika gives the utensils and one container over to him, then picks up his own fork and dinner, and starts to eat. It’s not bad. He’s had better and he’s had much worse.

Leorio takes one bite, then sighs, sets his fork down. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“I forgive you," Kurapika tells him. "I’ve already forgiven you. You’ve done more for me, several times over.”

“You know thats not how it works,” Leorio says, looking pained. “You dont owe me anything.”

“Neither do you,” Kurapika says, glances over at him. Leorio is still looking down at his hands, so he shifts his gaze back aside, continues to eat. He swallows, then says, “No reciprocities. No debt.”

Leorio does not acknowledge this, instead pokes aimlessly at his food, then sets his fork down again. “I can’t eat anymore.”

“Then have it for lunch tomorrow.”

“It’s not as good when it’s leftovers.”

“Then I’ll eat it tomorrow,” Kurapika replies, takes another bite. Halfway done, which is good enough for now.

Leorio considers this, then says, voice strained, “You’re being suspiciously nice to me.”

“I’m frequently nice to you,” Kurapika says, as gently as he can, fork lowering. “You’re just the suspicious type.”

Leorio heaves a shuddering sigh, does not so much lean as collapse against Kurapika, head dropping against his shoulder.

Kurapika sets the containers aside and takes his hand. “Tell me,” he says. Then he reconsiders and adds belatedly, “If you like.”

Leorio scoffs quietly at that, head rocking slightly on Kurapika’s shoulder. “Nice try,” he says, then sniffs. “I know you. You don’t give up easy. You’ll keep digging until you get it out of me.”

“That would be my inclination,” Kurapika agrees, because he is right, and also more relaxed when he is right. 

“I knew it,” Leorio says, still tilted against him, solid and exhausted and warm. “What did I tell you,” he adds, but his words come out strangled, and he swallows hard, mouth open like he is gasping for air.

And then he is weeping, shoulders heaving with it, one hand pressed over his face. Kurapika puts both arms around him, holds him tight. After a moment, he starts to rub Leorio’s back.

“Don’t, don’t,” Leorio manages, then shudders, shoulders tensing, and Kurapika puts both arms around him again to hold him steady and tight.

“I won’t,” he says and, “I have you.”

This only makes Leorio shudder again, start gulping for air. Then he says hoarsely, “I thought he was going to be okay.”

“Who?”

But he is overtaken by it, crying into his hands, hardly able to manage three words at a time. Kurapika extracts it from him, piece by piece. A patient at the hospital, young, a boy with a chronic illness. Not unexpected, for his choice of profession. But not something they thought he would encounter so soon.

When he has calmed a little, Leorio swallows hard, scrubbing at his face, then says, “They cancelled his follow-up. That’s when I found out.”

“I see.”

“I saw him last week. There had to be signs. Like, come on! We’re supposed to be the best— I’m a _Hunter!_ There has to be— _Why would I have done any of this, if this was all it gets!”_

He is dangerously close to sobbing again. It may be what he needs, but he is nearly overcome already, should not have to suffer further.

Kurapika leans into him and says quietly, “Leorio, you did your best. There’s nothing more you could have done.”

“There had to have been signs,” Leorio repeats, more agitated, then drops his head back into his hands. “I should have flagged something. He could’ve had a little longer. We could've figured something out. If I’d asked them to run the tests differently, or maybe a different test, or—”

“And you’re not going to solve it by second-guessing yourself now,” Kurapika says firmly.

“Fuck _‘now,’”_ Leorio says, heels of his palms digging against his forehead. “I should’ve been able to do something _then.”_

“You did everything you could.”

“‘Everything I could,’” he scoffs softly. Then he says, scrubbing again at his eyes, “What I _did_ do was cry on the subway. Isn’t that pathetic?”

“Not at all.”

“Some doctor I’ll be,” he says bitterly, as though he had not heard. ”Couldn’t even keep it together for the ride home.”

Kurapika takes his hand, squeezes it, waits until Leorio glances towards him. “That is not a fault in you, and it never will be,” he says firmly. “You have a gentle heart. I would hate to see that change."

“Hah, you like me.”

The mockery is half-hearted at best. “I do,” he says quietly, throat tight. It is too simple a phrase for the depth of emotion. 

Leorio grimaces at him, pained and wary with it. “You’re being too nice to me.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No.”

“Here,” Kurapika says, reaching for one of their dinners. Either one, it won’t matter. He loads his fork and holds it out. “Some more.”

“Come on,” Leorio groans, hunching away.

“Just try some.”

“I don’t want that.”

Kurapika puts the fork down, sets the styrofoam container aside. “What do you want?”

Leorio simply leans forward, arms coming up to wrap around Kurapika, who shifts, turns to hold him as well.

“You did your best. You did all that you could.”

Muffled against him, Leorio says, “It wasn’t enough.”

Kurapika searches for something kind to say. Instead, he says softly, “Sometimes it isn’t.”

At that, Leorio looks up at him. Not relieved, not stricken, not hurt… Only worn and exhausted. Pushed nearly past what he can bear. Then, carefully, he unwinds himself and pulls away.

“I think I want to be alone for a little.”

Kurapika's chest tightens, and he takes one of Leorio’s hands between his and kisses the back, gently. Then he settles it carefully back down and stands, heads into their bedroom. There were files he needed to review. He had scheduled time to do so tomorrow, but tonight works just as well. 

Several minutes later, he gives it up, takes the book on Leorio’s nightstand and reads several chapters ahead from the bookmark. When he shuts it again, frowning, the plot has leapt forward at an unreasonable pace, and it is nearly the time that Leorio prefers to begin closing out his evening.

Kurapika sets the book down and gets up. He’s fairly certain Leorio has settled himself in the study, and the light beneath the door confirms his suspicions.

He taps at the door, and waits. Then he slowly pushes it open.

Leorio is settled at the desk, lamp on, textbook open. He waits to be invited in, but Leorio doesn’t turn or otherwise acknowledge his presence. A minute later, Kurapika clears his throat, then knocks gently at the doorframe. Leorio sighs, then says, “Yeah?” without turning around.

Kurapika decides that’s permission enough, and advances into the study, stopping just by Leorio’s left shoulder. Finally, Leorio glances up at him, looking worn and exhausted.

"I am sorry for what I said."

Leorio only looks puzzled, then he makes a face and says, "Oh. It's true, though."

"Still."

Leorio waves him off. "It's fine."

Kurapika sighs, settles a hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently. “Are you coming to bed?”

“I will. Don’t stay up.”

He withdraws, reads half a report listlessly and the rest of Leorio’s book in bemused skepticism, then looks at the bedside clock again. Past time for both of them to sleep. 

Setting the book back on Leorio’s nightstand, he gets up and returns to the study, tapping again, but hardly waiting before he pushes open the door. This time, Leorio hunches slightly, but still doesn’t turn until Kurapika crosses the room to stand beside him again.

He looks worse than he did an hour and a half ago. The shadows beneath his eyes are deeper, and it looks as though he has been crying again, though his face is dry now.

“Staying up?” Kurapika says quietly, and Leorio looks back at him, wordless. He weighs his options, then steps further into the study to stand in front of Leorio, beside his desk. He says nothing else, only stands there and waits. 

After a moment, Leorio exhales heavily then tilts forward, head coming to rest against Kurapika, who settles a hand over the back of his neck. 

“Come to bed,” he says softly. There’s tension at the base of Leorio’s neck, and he presses lightly, refrains from kneading at the knots. Leorio may only need stillness. Certainly, he does not move for a long, long while.

Kurapika waits, uncertain, but eventually, Leorio nods, then puts one hand on his desk and slowly heaves himself up. Kurapika takes his hand, and Leorio follows him step by step into the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning for off-screen unnamed character death


	5. The dom!Leorio experience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No additional warnings apply
> 
> Editing this one was driving me nuts, and then I said, "Fuck it! This is supposed to be fun!" So here we are.

“Are you _sure?”_ Leorio says one last time, and Kurapika just rolls his eyes and hauls him off the couch. Guess that answers that.

Leorio catches him around the waist before he gets dragged any further, says, "That's my job," before leaning down to kiss Kurapika's face, the side of his neck, his shoulder.

Kurapika squirms, but without any real force behind it. "'Your job'?" he echoes skeptically. 

“I’m in charge,” Leorio insists, walking them both into the bedroom, arms still around him. “That’s the whole point, remember?”

Kurapika is doing an awful job of at pretending to be hard to get, but a great job of giving Leorio a skeptical side-eye. “The point of…?”

Leorio rolls his eyes, then drops onto the bed and pulls Kurapika into his lap. “Don’t play dumb. I boss you around, you take it easy for once in your life, we both get off, everyone’s happy. Come on, we talked about this. So c’mere and gimme a kiss.”

“Why.”

“Because I like you and I want you to give me a kiss,” Leorio says, grimacing at him. “Now quit being difficult. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want.”

Kurapika stiffens. “I’m sorry?”

“I mean, do you want this?”

Kurapika looks _real_ shifty at that. He doesn’t squirm, exactly, but his shoulders move like he’s thinking about it. Finally, he says, “I don’t _not_ want this.”

“Okay,” Leorio says suspiciously. Maybe he read the signs wrong, but in his defense, it’s kind of hard to misread getting dragged off the couch. Still, though. “That sounds like not the greatest—”

Then Kurapika says all in a rush, “It’s more interesting if—” He stops himself, visibly keeping himself from squirming, hands knotting together, shoulders going stiff. “I would— It’s… enjoyable. To give you a hard time.” Then he takes a deep breath, red from his shoulders to his hairline, and says, “If that’s all right.”

“Cute,” Leorio says, and watches him go from a nice deep pinkish to beet red. He reaches forward to tuck some of Kurapika’s hair behind his ear, which is practically radiating heat. “That’s adorable.”

“It is not!”

“Tough, because I’m calling the shots here. And if that’s not how you wanna play, that’s fine. You just have to let me know.”

Kurapika hesitates, then says very seriously, “I fully intend to do… nearly all the things you ask of me.”

Something squeezes tight in Leorio’s chest, and it’s absolutely got everything to do with Kurapika looking at him like that, solemn and uncertain with his chin set, and flushed from shoulders to hairline.

“Oh man,” Leorio groans. He’s sunk. He reaches forward to pull Kurapika close, to kiss his stupid hairline and cheeks and ears. “I love you. You’re killing me here. How are you like this.”

Kurapika narrows his eyes at him, but he’s still bright red. “I’m not sure if I should be offended.”

“As if. You always know when you wanna be offended.” Leorio kisses him again, which he allows, so he obviously is the least offended possible. “Listen, it’s like this: I’m trusting you here. You’re trusting me to not be a dick. And I’m trusting you to let me know what’s going on with you. So I won’t accidentally be a dick. Okay?”

“Yes.”

That was fast. Leorio narrows his eyes. “Really?”

“Yes.”

"Seriously."

_”Yes.”_

“Okay, because I _will_ pull the plug if it gets weird, do not test me.”

“Fine,” Kurapika says, grimacing at him. “What are we doing?”

_“You_ are gonna touch yourself.”

Kurapika shoots him a look, flat-out baffled and trying to hide it, a little crease in his forehead. “Excuse me?”

“You know, touch yourself. Lemme see how you get off without me.”

Kurapika’s still frowning at him. “Is that what this is supposed to be?”

“You wanna stop?”

“I— no, I don’t. I just— I thought it would be more of you doing things… to me.”

“We can do that, too. This is more like… a chance for me to boss you around, for once.”

“Are you implying I’m bossy?”

“I can say it flat out if you want. You’re bossy.”

Kurapika just folds his arms, clearly miffed and pouting and with no idea how funny he looks like that. It’s precious. He probably thinks he looks sullen and intimidating. Maybe he would, to someone who didn’t know any better. 

Leorio stifles a grin, then says, “So c’mon, hop to it, chop chop,” which gets him—

Nothing. Kurapika’s still looking back at him, but maybe the set of his mouth is more uneven, and he doesn’t exactly seem thrilled.

“Unless you don’t want to.”

He still hesitates, even now, after everything, and that...

Leorio nudges him, says quietly, “Remember you can say no. You should probably say no as much as you want.”

There’s another pause, even though they just had a whole thing about this, and then Kurapika says slowly, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Leorio says, then swallows hard. He could be pissed. He could take a page from Kurapika’s book and disappear for the next year and a half on some revenge mission, get himself tangled up in some real dodgy shit. But if it came down to it, if he had to pick between breaking every hand that’s ever touched Kurapika without kindness, or just being around Kurapika for every second that he has him, then… It’s not easy, but he knows what he’d choose.

“Really sure? That’s satisfying for you?”

“Are you kidding? I get to try a bunch of stuff and see if you like it. It’s like science. Sexy science.”

That makes Kurapika scrunch up his face, which is probably supposed to be both weirded out and superior, but is really just kind of cute. “What about for you?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Leorio says, and kisses him on his scrunched-up nose, on his cheeks, on his jaw and chin and neck until he laughs, halfheartedly tries to fend Leorio off. 

Leorio kisses him again, one more time on the cheek, just because he can, then turns to murmur, “Show me how you wanna be touched. Show me with your hands.”

“You mean like—“

“Yeah, I mean like,” Leorio says, then makes the jerk-off gestures, one hand loosely circled, jerking up and down. He rethinks it, then tries crooking two fingers, working them back and forth, before Kurapika swats one hand over his, flushing.

Kurapika hesitates, biting his lip, then says, “I don’t want that.”

“Good,” Leorio tells him, kisses the side of his mouth, because he’s a stubborn ass who needs some positive reinforcement. He kisses him again, and again, licks quick and light at his upper lip, just enough to get him breathing harder. “It’s good that you told me.”

Kurapika sighs against his mouth, eyes half shut, then says softly, “Keep doing that.”

“Bossy,” Leorio says, just as soft, and does, hands settling at Kurapika’s waist. “What do you want? We had a couple options.”

Kurapika just darts him a glance, then looks down. After a moment, his jaw works, and he pulls back, swallows hard, then holds out both his hands, pressed together at the wrists. 

“Ooh, nice. Now take off your shirt.”

“Why?”

“You really wanna be stuck in it? That shit’s not getting off when you’re tied up.”

“I— Did you...?"

"I mean, not like a tie-tie, I didn't know if you wanted a rope or cuffs. I got, um. A couple options. Take off your shirt, and I’ll go get them.”

When he comes back, Kurapika is shirtless and lounging against the pillows he stacked on top of each other. Leorio sits next to him and reaches to mess up his hair, gets swatted away after a couple ruffles. But gently.

The stuff is mostly stashed in a bag, so he smooths out a section of comforter, then shakes'em out so Kurapika can see. Steel cuffs, some sleek leather ones, some rope, which he kinda hopes Kurapika doesn't pick; he doesn't know too many knots, but at least there's a quick release one that should be all right.

Kurapika reaches out like it’s a dare and grabs the steel cuffs. He thrusts them out at Leorio, drops them into his hands like they’re scalding, and Leorio looks at them again, then at Kurapika, and he can’t help it, he starts to laugh.

Kurapika scowls at him, which only makes it worse, but he holds out a hand when Leorio gestures anyway.

“What is this, some kind of cop fantasy you had? Is this a mafia throwback?” Leorio says, still laughing, clicking one cuff shut around Kurapika’s wrist. “Should I pretend to be a criminal prosecutor? Get a little cow suit, dress up like Mizai?”

“It’s not—” Kurapika starts, trying to sit up, and Leorio pushes him back. He goes with a little ‘Oof,’ then glowers up at him and says, “No, you should not.”

“Really?” Leorio says, pretending to think it over. He gestures for Kurapika’s other hand. “I don’t know, I think I could rock it—”

Kurapika sits up fast, nearly knocking heads with him, then says sharply, “He is a colleague. Absolutely not.”

“Come on—”

“Never,” Kurapika says, poking him in the chest for emphasis. “Ever. _Ever._ In our entire lives.”

Leorio catches his wrist, kisses the knuckles. “Sure,” he says. “Hear you loud and clear. Now lie back down, okay? I’ll stop teasing. About this, anyway.”

Kurapika has an expression on like he obviously doesn’t believe a single word of that, then he puts his other hand up to be cuffed, too. Leorio takes his time with it, because Kurapika’s got nice hands. Square palms, square sturdy fingers, old familiar calluses. Then he sweeps the rest of the options back into the bag, tosses it over the side of the bed before testing the looseness of the cuffs, the give of the chain.

“You good? Comfy?”

Kurapika just nods, already starting to flush, hands raising until Leorio grabs one of his wrists. 

“Hang on, don’t pull yet.”

He concentrates, pushes a little aura into the cuffs, then headboard, then bedframe. No point having anything break because it wasn’t ready to stand up to the strain.

“Okay, you can.”

Predictably, Kurapika yanks nearly as hard as he can, aura amped up and making the hairs on Leorio's arms stand on end. But he's ready for it, reinforces the whole setup so Kurapika comes up short, drops onto the bed gasping, then immediately tries again, the little persistent fucker.

Leorio grins at him, then sits back, sticks his tongue out when Kurapika glares. "You thought I wasn't practicing, huh?"

"I never implied such a thing."

“Get over yourself," Leorio says, then laughs at Kurapika's indignant glower. "You and your fake damn high horse."

"I don't understand that idiom," Kurapika informs him loftily, and Leorio rolls his eyes, retorts, "You can get laid or you can keep mouthing off, so pick one."

Kurapika shuts his mouth so fast his teeth click together, but he gives Leorio a look that promises he'll remember that. Whatever. That's a problem for future Leorio. 

“Awesome,” Leorio says, grinning, then really stops to take in the view. 

Kurapika’s laid out before him, all smooth skin, toned legs, the soft, sensitive creases at his knees and hips and stomach and arms. No new scars, just the old familiar marks he knows pretty well by now; same determined jut to his chin, same stubborn pretty mouth, same dark gaze searching and weighing, watching him back.

“See something you like?” It doesn’t come out flirty, more like a taunt, but that’s just Kurapika all over.

“Yeah,” Leorio says softly, mouth dry. “Oh yeah. So much.”

He settles one hand on Kurapika, smoothes it along his chest and down to his side, pausing so he can thumb one nipple. Kurapika doesn’t make a sound, just breathes in sharp, arching into it. Leorio follows up with his mouth, then runs his tongue over the peak and around.

That gets him a long sigh, Kurapika’s head dropping back, and presumably, now there are a bunch more interesting noises that can be coaxed out of him. Leorio figures no harm in trying, and licks the tip of his thumb, runs it fast and hard along Kurapika’s clit, just once, and Kurapika makes a little strangled grunt, knees jerking up.

Leorio scoots down to kiss the inside of his thigh. “You like that?” he says, and Kurapika inhales sharply, heels twitching against Leorio’s back. “C’mon, you gotta tell me or I won’t know.”

“Yes,” Kurapika bites out, then covers his face with his elbows. “Very much.”

None of that hides his blush, though. Bright red, all the way down to his shoulders. Leorio grins, climbs up to kiss his collarbone, his shoulder, his throat to make him wriggle in protest. 

“We should do this _all_ the time,” he says.

Kurapika makes a little disgruntled noise, about to complain about something even while his toes are tracing Leorio’s inner thighs. Leorio decides he’s not in a mood to hear it and bites him, right at the tender patch of skin where his shoulder meets his neck.

Whatever Kurapika was planning on saying gets lost in his gasp, the reflexive jerk of his hips that turns into a unsteady grind as Leorio keeps going, works lips and tongue over all the sensitive parts of Kurapika’s throat, that one soft spot just beneath his jaw. When Leorio lifts his head to kiss him, Kurapika meets him eagerly, mouth opening for him, body arcing up to press against his. 

Leorio pushes him back down and settles heavy against him, hands sliding down Kurapika, chest, waist, hips. It’s a little thrill all on its own, that he gets to touch Kurapika like this, make him sweat and moan. 

His mouth follows after, sucking and biting and teasing. He leaves marks all along Kurapika’s body, the base of his throat, his chest, stomach, just above one hip. There’s a little clink somewhere up above as Kurapika pulls at the cuffs, panting, trying to twist closer to Leorio. 

Leorio grins up at him, then slides further down. 

“I’m going to put my mouth on you,” he says, gaze flicking up to look Kurapika in the eyes.

Kurapika’s mouth is parted, eyes hazy and already red, one of the deeper tones he has when he’s not all the way worked up yet. He just licks his lips, makes a little incoherent sound that’s vaguely agreeing or maybe just a sound.

“You want me to do that?”

Kurapika just grunts at him, eyes narrowing, probably trying to decide whether he’s too proud to admit how bad he wants it, or if he’s desperate enough to try admitting he might like something for a change. Leorio decides to give him a hand. 

“You want me to put my mouth on you and lick you up? Get you all hot and bothered? Maybe suck on you a little, if you’re real good?”

Kurapika’s flushing even darker now, eyes lighting up, and he’s so pretty like this. Good enough to eat.

“Ye-s,” he drags out slowly, and Leorio considers for a second, then kisses him directly between the lips.

Kurapika makes a sound like he's been sucker-punched, legs coming up over Leorio's shoulders, and Leorio gets both hands on his hips to pin him down, keep him steady, then kisses him again, adds a little tongue.

Kurapika shudders underneath him, says _”Leorio,”_ and he wants to hear his name like that all the time. 

Probably he has a pretty good shot of that if he keeps going, but he can’t resist. He licks all the way up Kurapika, sucking his clit before pulling off with just a hint of teeth, and leaning his cheek against Kurapika’s thigh. “That easy? You feel good?”

_”Yes,”_ Kurapika hisses at him, then plants one foot square in the center of Leorio’s back as a super unsubtle hint. He’s not pressing particularly hard. Looks like he’s not interested in embarrassing himself today; he knows it’ll do jack-shit. Leorio grins to himself and keeps going.

He has to focus, make sure to reinforce the cuffs and the bedpost just to make sure Kurapika can’t bust through either of them. Kurapika, the little shit, is trying some kinda Nen stuff to match it, already getting ready to tug, and Leorio grabs his ass, yanks him flat. 

“None of that,” he says, then bends his head and gets back to work. 

Really, it’s a less collaborative make-out session. Two lips, wet and soft, minus the tongue and teeth, then add the clit. He thinks he’s got a pretty good baseline for getting Kurapika off by now. 

When he licks quick and deep while Kurapika’s breathing extra hard, he gets a little moan. Broad and flat, to spread him open, get deeper in, and Kurapika is grinding against him, hips jerking high every time he tries to yank against the cuffs and is brought up short in a little rattle of chains. 

Leorio mouthes up to his clit, laps at it hard and quick, and that’s when he gets Kurapika’s thighs trying to close around his head. Leorio puts his hands between them, spreads them wide. “Stay,” he says, then sidles one hand over to thumb at Kurapika’s clit, mouth settling over it. 

Meanwhile Kurapika is breathing hard through clenched teeth, hips jerking, legs trying to wrap around Leorio’s shoulders. Leorio lifts his head to catch a breather, two fingers sliding in to keep Kurapika occupied. Then he turns to kiss the inside of Kurapika’s thigh, nice at first, then hard enough to bruise.

He goes all the way up and down, from just above Kurapika’s knee to the soft inner curve of his hip. There’s a rattle somewhere above him as Kurapika yanks on the cuffs, then says desperately, “Leorio.”

“Chill,” Leorio says, ignores the offended scoff from somewhere above him. Wouldn’t be polite to leave him hanging too long, though.

He kisses Kurapika’s hip one more time, then slides his mouth over, closes it over the folds of Kurapika again. He figures he’s forgiven when a second little disdainful sound immediately gives way to a moan, Kurapika starting to arch under him. Easy then to mouthe the rise and swell of the outer part of Kurapika’s clit, and he sucks at it, tongue brushing against it and fingers still working inside Kurapika, who’s beginning to squirm and clench around him.

Then he gasps, feet digging in hard somewhere along Leorio’s back. Doesn’t hurt none, but his junk is doing something throbby and fascinating, and Leorio sucks harder, then lowers his head to lick hard and deep around his fingers, tongue pressing in. 

That does it, Kurapika’s whole body jerking upwards, his cry strangled as he bucks against Leorio’s face. It’s hot and messy, and Leorio eats him right up. Right past his peak, Leorio slides his fingers out, gets his whole mouth back over Kurapika, who wails once, then keeps working his hips up again, desperate.

Leorio doesn’t let up until Kurapika grunts, starting to shift away instead of closer in, chasing more wetness and touch. One last suck, and Leorio’s sitting up, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand,

Kurapika’s flopped back against the bed, flushed and sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead, hands hanging limp in the cuffs. Leorio looks at him for a long moment, drinks him in, then leans over to kiss his shoulder, his collarbone, the sweat-sticky side of his throat. 

When he sits up again, Kurapika’s mouth is half open, and he’s shifting slightly on the bed, tiny little half-motions like his body is re-aligning.

“Bet you’re not done yet.”

“No bet,” Kurapika says hoarsely, eyes half shut, head tilted back. He licks his lips, swallows hard. “You’re a cheat and a scoundrel."

"And if it keeps getting me this, I'm not stopping anytime soon. So whose fault is that, really?"

Kurapika rolls his eyes, then shudders and gasps when Leorio strokes him with two fingertips, light and easy. Just a little teaser.

“You wanna stay like this?”

“One hand,” Kurapika says immediately, even fuck-drunk and gasping, like he’s been thinking about it.

“You got it,” Leorio says, easing up on the aura so he can get it unlocked, one hand tight around Kurapika’s wrists so he doesn’t try anything funny. 

There’s no aura, but Kurapika does stretch out and wriggle in a very pointed way, before heaving a sigh and turning so one leg slides over Leorio’s thigh, and how’s he supposed to ignore that?

“You’re making this really hard,” Leorio complains.

Kurapika just turns, leg shifting so his knee brushes against Leorio’s boner. “Good.”

“Ff _ff,”_ Leorio says, eloquently. Then he heaves in a ragged breath, and says, “You little bastard.”

Kurapika just laughs at him, and Leorio grumbles, hauls him up again to get both cuffs locked around his left wrist. Then he sits back as Kurapika lies there watching him, half-smile pulling up one corner of his mouth. 

Leorio quirks a smile back and says, “So?”

“So,” Kurapika agrees, one leg still sprawled over both of his. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Leorio laughs at him, then leans down to kiss him, one hand sliding up Kurapika’s thigh. Doesn’t take too long before he’s got Kurapika gasping, _“More,”_ body twisting on the sheets.

“I’ve got basically my whole hand in here, baby,” he says, teasing. “Really, more?”

“You know what I want. And I am not a baby.”

“Sure, sweetheart.”

Kurapika nips him for that, then twists around to suck on his neck. It’s fast and hard enough to make him shudder, gasping, and his hands curl up, making Kurapika whimper, then clamp his teeth in Leorio’s shoulder. Chain reaction or something. Like a stupid ouroboros sex thing.

Leorio shrugs him off, then grins down at him, fingers still working. “All right, that was hot. Sure you don’t just want this?”

Kurapika just hisses at him, horny and exasperated, and Leorio can’t help it, he laughs. Guy’s just like a pissed-off goose.

“Give it to me.”

“What did we say about you being bossy?”

“I am telling you what I want,” Kurapika snipes back at him, clipped and precise. “Maybe you should provide some positive reinforcement.”

“Smartass.”

Kurapika yanks him close with both legs, one hand clamped tight around the back of his neck. _“You like it,”_ he breathes, heated and intent, and the thing is, Leorio really, really does.

But also, he is supposed to be in charge here, and Kurapika’s opened himself right up for a nice firm slap on the ass, so Leorio does. He grabs hold when Kurapika startles, leans forward and presses him down.

“Watch yourself,” he warns, and Kurapika just shows all his teeth in a fierce, sharp smile.

Then he squirms beneath Leorio, rocking slightly upwards, and Leorio inhales sharp, manages a strangled, "Quit it." He is the boss here!

He gets his hands on Kurapika's waist to push him down, hold him in place, and Kurapika's expression goes hazy, mouth dropping open, legs loose and spread. 

“Like this?” Leorio says, two fingers teasing him open as he gets lined up just right.

Kurapika sucks in a breath, then nods, jerky and fast. 

Sinking into him is so good. The warm wet heat of him, all revved up from orgasm number two or three, the way he gasps with just a hint of whine, then says, _“Leorio,”_ like it’s already unbearable, the way he arcs up, and he feels so nice. He’s soft and slick and easy when Leorio pushes in, clutching tight on the withdraw. 

He can feel himself getting more sensitive, every shift of Kurapika’s body against his setting off sparks. It’s like every ridge and fold inside Kurapika is there to rub against him just right, and he lowers his head nearly to Kurapika’s shoulders, gasping. 

Not yet, not yet. Focus on anything else. Like maybe how much snap to put into his hips while he’s plowing Kurapika. Like making sure the cuffs and headboard stay reinforced, like making sure Kurapika's still looking at him, hazy and open and wanting— okay, focusing on other things again. 

“I’m gonna fuck you stupid,” he promises breathlessly. “Problem is, you’re too smart for your own good. It’s gonna take a while.”

“Is that supposed to be,” Kurapika starts, then digs his teeth into his lower lip, inhaling harsh, “a turn-on?”’

“What, you don’t like when I call you smart? You don’t like being a clever little bastard?”

Kurapika manages half a laugh, glancing up at him. “What do you think?”

“I think you’ve got a little crush on me.” There’s a clank from the hand that’s cuffed. “That’s embarrassing, babe.”

“You—” Kurapika starts, then clenches his teeth, eyes sliding shut. Then he gasps, legs spreading even wider, and says, _“More.”_

Leorio kisses him, because he can, because Kurapika's his to kiss. He winds one hand into Kurapika's hair, pulls it back, hard, and Kurapika’s wailing beneath him now, eyes clamped shut, body arcing up towards his. He slides one hand between them to get his thumb on Kurapika’s clit, rub it fast and hard, and Kurapika’s entire body jerks. Then Kurapika turns his head aside, pants into the crook of his arm, and that opens his neck right up for some kissing.

Leorio leans in, presses his mouth hard against the sensitive little dip of skin right beneath Kurapika's jaw, scrapes his teeth along it, pressing deep into Kurapika's body, and Kurapika comes with a gasp, ragged at the edges. Then he curls in, wrenches his head around to sink his teeth into Leorio's shoulder, and Leorio swears, keeps fucking him hard, both hands on Kurapika's hips now. 

He comes like a fucking trainwreck, sudden and explosive, lots of noise. Kurapika has one hand tight on the back of his neck, still making soft sounds beneath him, legs pulling him in. Leorio groans, head dropping to Kurapika's shoulder, and he can hear Kurapika laugh a little breathlessly from what feels like a long way away. That's good. That's the good shit.

He clenches his teeth, gasping into Kurapika’s shoulder. Clumsy, he manages to pull out, but doesn’t manage anything else for a bit.

When he can focus on other stuff again, still blurry at all the edges of his thoughts, Kurapika’s hanging onto him, hips working upwards in a slow, heavy grind, and Leorio pulls him close. 

"I've got you," he says, and Kurapika sighs, shivery and low. Then he buries his face against Leorio's neck, and Leorio gentles him through the comedown, one hand steady against his back, other stroking through his hair. It’s the most vulnerable he lets himself get, and it doesn’t usually last long. Leorio keeps him close.

It hardly feels like a minute later when Kurapika squirms, says, “Let me out,” still breathless.

Leorio reaches up and pinches at the hinge by Kurapika's wrist and the cuff snaps easy as anything. He leaves it attached to the headboard, makes a note to throw it out later. They can get nicer ones next time; he doesn’t give a shit about these. 

“Okay?” he says, taking Kurapika’s wrist between both hands and starting to rub out some of the welts. Not too many, and they could be healed up real easy, but that’s cheating and this is nicer anyway. 

Kurapika nods drowsily, apparently content to just watch him do it, eyes half-lidded, limbs loose, his whole vibe kinda melty. Leorio kisses his hands, palms and backs, because he can. Then he moves up, along the forearms to the shoulders, and Kurapika makes a little amused huff, turns so it’s easier for him to reach.

“You need water?” Leorio says, remembering what he’s doing partway between kissing Kurapika’s cheeks and getting both arms around his waist.

“Mm. Not really.”

“You should have some anyway,” Leorio says, trying to sound stern, and Kurapika just smiles back at him, hands looped around the back of his neck, and he nearly ditches everything else and goes back in for round two. 

He keeps it together and kisses Kurapika instead, deep and slow, then tugs his hands loose so he can sit up. Water’s on the nightstand, and he waits for Kurapika to shuffle upright before handing it to him. 

Kurapika drinks, but not enough, hands it back. Leorio swallows down about half of what’s left, pushes the glass back, which makes Kurapika scoff softly. But he drinks the rest in slow, measured swallows, tries to lean around Leorio to put the glass down.

“Uh-uh,” Leorio says, taking the glass from him and twisting to put it on the nightstand. His arms are longer anyway. Kurapika scoffs again, but he’s mushed up against Leorio’s chest, which ruins whatever attitude he was going for.

After a moment, he sighs, cheek rubbing up against Leorio. “Let me lie down beside you,” he says, soft and wistful and a little weirdly formal. 

“Sure. Of course.”

“It’s what I want.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

He shuffles them both forward a little, more towards the center of the bed and away from the damp part of the sheets. Then, carefully, he nudges Kurapika down, follows after, gets them both tucked in cozy and dry. Kurapika shifts, mumbles something wordless and content, wriggles closer towards him.

“Hey, it’s okay. I got you.”

Kurapika’s eyes are nearly shut, mouth curved slightly upwards. “Mmhm.”

It’s nice, seeing him like this. Leorio takes it in, feeling warm and soft and stupid. He drops a kiss on Kurapika's forehead, gets both arms circled around him. “So. You like?”

“Very much.”

"So we doing this again sometime?"

"Oh yes," Kurapika says, then opens his eyes to look up at Leorio, looping an arm over his waist. “I have some ideas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a cat! [Please look at my extremely cute cat](https://twitter.com/canalsobemoe/status/1354534166877057025) (Her name is Frida Katlo)


	6. Leorio takes the strap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No additional warnings apply

The starting isn’t difficult, only embarrassing. Kurapika looks at the items in his hands, contemplates them several minutes longer, then heads into the living room. He doesn’t bother with words. Instead he simply settles a bottle of lube and a condom on the coffee table, and waits for the response. 

Leorio eyes them with every appearance of wariness, then says, "Me or you?"

"You."

This only makes Leorio consider him for a long moment, before he clicks his tongue and says, “You’d better appreciate this,” then disappears into the bedroom.

Kurapika settles himself onto the couch and considers turning on the television, decides against it. None of the programs would be sufficiently distracting, and would be irritating besides. Instead he gets up again, begins searching for something to do in the kitchen.

He’s cleaned out the refrigerator and is partway through putting away the dishes when the bedroom door opens, and Leorio pokes his face out to only say, “Okay,” then retreat again, leaving the door ajar.

He’s seated on the bed when Kurapika arrives; he is already naked, which is both lovely and disappointing. 

“Put your thing on,” he says, kicking a box towards Kurapika, who stops it with one foot.

“My ‘thing’?” Kurapika says, eyebrows raising as he shuts the door behind him.

“You know, your like. Dick or whatever you wanna call it. I don’t know.”

“My ‘dick’? Is that what you want to call it?”

“I don’t know! What do you want to call it?”

Kurapika sniffs, less annoyed than he lets on, then stoops to pick up the box. The contents rattle slightly. “I suppose anything that keeps you from kicking my dick across the floor.”

Leorio tries to stifle his laughter, and fails. “Hey—“

Box in hand, Kurapika heads over to drop onto the bed beside him, opening the lid and starting to rummage through. A motley collection of synthetic genitals, mainly collected at Leorio’s urging and spontaneous purchasing. All are serviceable.

He catches Leorio beginning to lean in, ducks his head as though to take a closer look at the collection, then turns aside to set one on the bed. He doesn’t particularly care which one, but Leorio is already starting to grumble at him.

“Hey, c’mere—”

“You have options,” Kurapika says, as though Leorio needed reminding. He fishes some out, holds them up for inspection.

“Come on,” Leorio says, groaning, then takes him by the shoulders, leans in, and kisses him. Kurapika kisses him back, hands still full of silicone.

Then Leorio says, “This one,” and pulls one out of his hands, and he lets the rest fall back into the box. 

“Don’t look,” Kurapika says, sorting out a tangle of leather straps and buckles, and Leorio obediently shuts his eyes, then flops backwards onto the bed.

Meanwhile, Kurapika carefully steps into the harness, affixes the dildo, and makes the necessary adjustments. It feels ridiculous but also… correct, somehow.

He settles one hand on Leorio’s knee, who comes upright again like a jack-in-the-box, already starting to grin. Then his gaze falls upon the dildo, and his mouth parts slightly, hands coming to rest on Kurapika’s hips, head tipping back to look at his face.

"Hey."

"Hello."

“So,” Leorio says, then trails off.

Kurapika waits.  
Leorio's gaze flicks down, then up again. “Anything to say for yourself?”

“Such as?”

“I don’t know, whatever it is you’re planning on doing? It’s kinda been a while, so I’m—”

“Nervous?”

“Yeah— no. I’m not nervous,” he says, in a manner that could be defined as ‘nervously.’ “I just definitely remember you saying you haven’t done this before and i want to make sure I know what’s going on.”

“Leorio.”

Leorio quiets and glances up at him, mouth set in a crooked, stubborn scowl.

“I am going to stop whenever you ask me to. Or if you hesitate. Or even if you don’t tell me you want this.”

Leorio leans back and considers him. “You’re pretty into this, aren’t you?’

“Not if you aren’t.”

Leorio mulls this over as well, expression hardly shifting. Then he hooks one finger into the harness and pulls, grinning. “Then show me what you got.”

Kurapika kisses him, once and again, and again, and again. Enough to make him gasp and lean in for more. Settling against him, Kurapika curves a hand around both their phalluses, flesh and facsimile alike, slides it up and down. The effect is immediate and electric, Leorio jolting under him, then hooking one elbow behind his neck to pull him closer. 

“You don’t have to be so sweet,” Leorio says into his ear. “Kinda want you to go ahead and touch me already.”

Heat runs down Kurapika’s spine, but he keeps his hands and voice steady, reaching for the bottle of lubricant on the nightstand. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“You got the lube?” Leorio says, repositioning himself on the bed then exaggeratedly leaning back and shutting his eyes. “Then just talk me through it.” 

Carefully, Kurapika climbs between his legs, then slides his free hand over Leorio’s hips, other waiting for the lube to sufficiently warm. He reaches down and says, ”I won't hurt you, I promise."

Leorio wheezes, squirming beneath him. "Hey, seriously? Kurapika, really?"

"I'm serious!"

Leorio is laughing at him now, disbelieving. "You sound like you're threatening me! 'Give me the money and no one gets hurt.' Sure, okay!"

“Well, what should I say?” Kurapika grumbles, sitting back. 

“I don’t know, but definitely not that.”

Kurapika heaves a sigh, folding his arms. “That’s not helpful.”

“Listen. I already know you’re not going to hurt me. That’s just a— I don’t need you to tell me that, and it gets weird if you do. I just… I guess I just want to know what you’re thinking or feeling or whatever. Or if you think I’m hot.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Kurapika says. “Obviously I’m attracted to you.”

“Yeah, but,” Leorio says, shrugging. “You can _say_ it.”

“Very well, then. I find you attractive”

Leorio just laughs at him, then relaxes back. “Eh, good enough. Now come on, dude. Get over yourself and get ready to rail me stupid.”

"Why do you insist on saying things like that," Kurapika says, face hot.

"I dunno. Makes it less weird."

"Is it weird," Kurapika says doubtfully, slicking two fingers and sliding them between Leorio’s legs.

Leorio snorts. “You don’t think there’s anything weird about sticking your fingers in my ass? I’m a doctor, and I still think it’s lowkey weird. Good thing I’m not the ‘stick your fingers in an ass all day’ kind doctor. Can you imagine?”

“Please stop talking,” Kurapika says, nudges him as a deeply unsubtle hint.

Leorio bites his lip, then retorts, “You can either shut me up or gimme something else to talk about.”

Fine. He presses in, and Leorio inhales sharply. Then he says, "Okay."

"Just okay?"

"You just started," Leorio says, rolling his eyes. "Okay is fine, don't be like this when you've only got one finger up my ass. Try two."

“You’re very certain of yourself,” Kurapika says, annoyed despite himself. 

“Someone has to be. You can spread'em a little.”

The suggestion is sound. Kurapika does, experimentally, and Leorio shifts against him, says, “Still okay,” but he is breathing harder, head dropping back to the pillows. Then he shudders and says, “Closer—” and, _“There.”_

Kurapika licks his lips, remembers to breathe. The feel of Leorio, the way he moves and sounds, eyes nearly shut and half-vocalizations at the back of every breath, body pressing back against him, is something else entirely. Everything else falls away.

Abruptly, Leorio pats a hand against his shoulder. “Okay, playtime’s over. You better fuck me for real.”

“Ah,” Kurapika says, through the heat that runs suddenly through him. Leorio is looking up at him, mouth crooked to one side, nearly a grin.

“What, did you forget? Come on, you got me all excited.”

Kurapika shakes his head briefly—he didn’t forget, he would never forget—to clear some of the daze, then reaches for the condom on the nightstand. Settling back, he rolls it down over the dildo’s shaft. “On your knees.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Leorio says, turning over. Unexpectedly, this is thrilling.

“You—” Kurapika starts, then chokes.

“Yeah?”

“You’re good,” he says, throat tight. “You’re so good. I want to make you feel as good as you are.”

Leorio grins crookedly back at him. “That’s sweet of you.”

Kurapika scowls back, feels the heat rising to his face. “I’m not sweet,” he says sharply, flattens one hand between Leorio’s shoulderblades and shoves. “I—” 

He inhales, biting his lower lip to keep his voice from shaking. Then he swallows hard and says, “I’m going to make you beg.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

“Well, come on then. Do your worst, I dare you.”

“Are you ready?” Kurapika says, aligning himself.

“What do you think?”

“I think,” he says slowly, “that you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into.”

“Ooo, Mr. Kurapika, ooo,” Leorio rejoins over his shoulder, mouthing a kiss at him. “Can you use that smart mouth for anything else?”

“Plenty. But I’m just getting started.”

“You talk such a big game,” Leorio begins, starting to roll his eyes, and then he gasps, head dropping.

Kurapika draws back, not all the way and certainly not to remain still. The head of the appendage remains inside Leorio, and he continues working his hips, nudging into him.

Leorio meanwhile has his face pressed to his forearm, panting. 

“Please,” he says hoarsely. “Please, Kurapika, give it to me, I want it.”

Hard to deny him when he asks so nicely. Kurapika inhales unsteadily, then settles a firm hand on Leorio’s hip, and slides all the way inside him. 

Leorio shudders, gasping open-mouthed, hands clenching in front of him. Kurapika adjusts himself, the straps of the harness, then presses even closer. There’s a soft whimper from Leorio, then he is pressing back, asking for more. 

Kurapika shifts again, works himself very slightly out, then back in to make him whine again. “Who’s talking a big game now?”

“Still you,” Leorio manages, moans as Kurapika rocks into him. Then he says between gasps, “But I’m into it.”

“Into… anything specifically?”

Leorio chuckles under his breath, and Kurapika scowls down at the back of his head. “Don’t mock.”

For some reason that makes Leorio laugh harder, then protest, “I’m not, I’m not,” head dropping briefly before he wriggles, pressing back against Kurapika. “Start slow. But after that, you can be a little mean.”

Kurapika doesn’t startle, doesn’t flinch, but his heart misgives him at the thought. “We’ll see,” he says quietly. 

“I mean, you don’t have to be _mean_ -mean,” Leorio says in a rush. “But you can go harder— _Oh.”_ A breath hisses between his teeth. Then he says, voice choked, “Yeah, like that.”

That, he can gladly do. Kurapika thrusts into him, sets a steady pace as Leorio gasps, then begins to moan. He’s louder when he’s the one being fucked. Kurapika presses in deep, straining to kiss anywhere higher than his shoulderblade, but it can’t be done. 

“On your back,” he says, pulling out, and Leorio gasps, shuddering and groaning as he turns.

Then he settles hard against the bed, limbs sprawling carelessly, voice and hands reaching. _“Kurapika.”_

“Here,” Kurapika assures him, thumb and condom slick from a fresh application of lubricant, resettles himself between Leorio’s legs. “I’m here. Are you ready?”

“Yeah. Anytime. All the time, come on, please, Kurapika—”

He slides home as Leorio bucks and moans, thighs tightening against his hips. It’s a stretch to kiss him, but manageable, and brings Leorio firmly against him. He has both hands behind Leorio’s knees now, tries to press them upwards. Then Leorio groans and says, “I’m not that flexible,” but he is laughing. Kurapika considers him, momentarily at a loss. There must be a solution.

“Pass me that,” he says, pointing to the pillow by Leorio’s head. Leorio glances up, panting, then rolls his eyes. 

“Why can’t we use your pillow?” he gripes, handing it over.

“So give me that one, too,” Kurapika retorts, gesturing impatiently, still rolling his hips slow and steady. He must be doing something right; partway through handing it over, Leorio shudders, head jerking back, teeth digging into his lower lip.

“There—”

“Wait,” Kurapika tells him, lifts him one-handed, then presses full into him for better leverage. This makes Leorio groan, back arching, an unwieldy handful, but not heavy.

He settles the pillows beneath Leorio, just short of his lower back, then tilts his hips up. Still not ideal, but much better. He leans forward, places a kiss alongside Leorio's jaw.

Up close, he looks his fill. Leorio’s face is turned to the side, his expression different, less intent. His eyes are shut, mouth open and vulnerable, any pretense of a guard gone. He has given himself over completely.

Kurapika pauses for a moment, taken aback by an unexpected swell of tenderness. Then, need. 

“Good,” he says softly, and Leorio’s eyes half-open, hazily fix on him. “Good. Hold onto me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Leorio has asked him to go hard. He intends to comply. 

He grips Leorio's hip and slides out nearly all the way as Leorio moans, says, "Kurapika, come on, please, please please."

He rocks very, very slightly, just enough to nudge in and out, and Leorio makes the most fascinating sound between his teeth, somewhere between a moan and a furious, impatient hiss. When he stills, Leorio’s head drops back against the sheets, and he says breathlessly, “Kurapika, please, I am begging you—”

Kurapika thrusts into him, as deep as he can, pressure against his groin fueling the fire between his hips.

"Fuck!" Leorio shouts, arching nearly off the bed, one hand going to his cock. Kurapika presses him back down, draws his hand away. "Please!"

Kurapika refrains from pointing out that this is what they are already doing. Instead he settles his clean hand alongside Leorio's face, says, "It's all right," thumb stroking along his cheek. Then he grips Leorio's shoulder to hold him in place, and sets back to work.

Leorio makes a series of small desperate sounds low in his throat. Then he bites his lip.

“Ah, fuck,” he says hoarsely, then, _“Fuck!_ Kurapika—”

Kurapika leans forward, stops Leorio’s mouth up with his own. It’s a bit of a stretch, but he is determined and Leorio is obliging. Leorio whimpers against him, one arm hooking behind his neck. There is a gleam of crimson on his skin, separate from the darkness of his flush, and when Leorio looks at him, there is a clear reflection of Kurapika’s own scarlet eyes shining back at him.

Leorio goes still. Perhaps it is still strange to both of them. Kurapika hesitates, just a moment, but Leorio is already grinning broad and soft back at him. 

“Oh,” Leorio says, laughing a little as he brushes one fingertip against Kurapika’s cheek. “You’re _so_ into me. Babe, that’s sweet.”

Kurapika snaps at him, teeth catching just the edge of his palm before clicking shut, and he presses in deep, mouth closing over Leorio’s again. “Be quiet.”

Leorio squirms free, still grinning. “What, you _don’t_ want me to beg you for anything? You don’t wanna hear how good you’re fucking m— _Oh.”_ His eyes shut, and he bites his lip, then gasps as Kurapika pushes one leg wide, other hand heavy on his waist. It’s true; Kurapika has no interest in hearing more. He’s already quite aware.

Leorio’s mouth is opening and closing convulsively, gasping for air before he whimpers, hands clutching at Kurapika to draw him closer, closer. Kurapika’s happy to oblige. He tightens his grip on Leorio’s thigh, and Leorio twists against him, hips jerking up. 

“Good,” Leorio pants. “That’s good— _Fuck—”_

Then he cries out, pure emotion given sound. An answering jolt runs through Kurapika’s chest, heated and savage, and he is glad for it. He leans in, to look over everything Leorio is in this instant, to keep it with him: the tendons showing clear in Leorio’s neck, the sweat, the way his mouth works, the flex of his arms as he grips the headboard, his ragged gasps as they give way to moans. Kurapika grips the back of his neck, and his eyes flutter open, search him out dark and hazy. Then they slam shut again as Kurapika’s other hand settles over his erection, thumbing the head, slick with pre-come, and rubbing up and down the shaft. 

Kurapika is dimly aware of the breath hissing between his teeth, the tight hot clutch of desire at the pit of his stomach and high in his chest. He wants Leorio to be undone by him. He begins working his hand up and down in earnest, and Leorio kicks once, then says, “Ah—”

And then he is spilling across his stomach and Kurapika’s hand, rutting up against it as he shudders his way through his climax, babbling. Kurapika keeps him close, does not let him go as he relaxes, gasping. 

“No more,” he manages, then whines, hips still working. “That feels so good, please, I can’t—”

“Hold still,” Kurapika says, withdraws as slowly as he can, though Leorio still moans as he eases free, head rolling on the bed.

Kurapika steadies him with one hand, other going to fumble with the buckles, undoing them in a rush. He slides out of the contraption and lets it drop to the floor, gets back into bed, and pulls Leorio close, arms and legs wrapping around him. Leorio is a tall man, but fits well beneath his chin, feels the perfect size to be held.

Slowly, Kurapika smoothes down the unsteadiness in his limbs, the small slight twitches of his arms and hands and hips. As the rest of his body stills, his breathing calms, and he nestles closer, one arm looping around Kurapika’s waist. He makes a small sound, face pressing against Kurapika’s chest.

Kurapika settles one hand at the back of his neck, kisses his forehead, keeps him close. After a moment, he looks down at himself. There are reddish lines where the straps pressed along the edges of his hips and thighs.

He makes a face, doesn’t move immediately, one thumb sweeping a slow, steady arc along Leorio’s neck. When he’s sure Leorio’s breathing has slowed, Leorio nearly drowsing, he shifts, starts to rub at the marks. 

Leorio lifts his head slightly. “You okay?”

“Fine. It’s just a little sore.”

“Oh, _you’re_ sore,” Leorio says snidely, then shuffles slightly backwards. “Here, let me see.”

“You’re sore? Did I— Are you all right?”

Something softens in Leorio’s expression. “I’m giving you a hard time,” he says gently, one hand settling on the red mark at Kurapika’s hip. “That was great.”

Kurapika searches his face for tightness, hesitation. Nothing. Only the same clear eyes, no lines, soft mouth. Then, slowly, he lifts a hand, runs it gently through Leorio’s hair. “Good,” he says, voice remarkably steady. “I enjoyed myself as well.”

“I _am_ gonna feel it tomorrow, though.”

 _“Good,”_ Kurapika says, fist closing at the back of Leorio’s head and pulling. Leorio’s hair is too short for any real leverage, but his head goes back regardless to expose his throat, and Kurapika leans in. He knows what will and what will not leave a mark by now. 

Leorio is gasping again by the time he’s done, eyes half-shut, body arced towards him. He manages to shut his mouth, then says, coherently, "Mm."

"Hm?"

 _”Mmm,”_ Leorio repeats, then burrows closer, curling entire around Kurapika. "You're great," he says quietly, words sliding at the edges. He pets Kurapika's hair, kisses his forehead. "Love you."

"Hormones," Kurapika says dismissively. "Released by sexual activity."

Leorio snorts. "Don't be a jerk. Shut up. I love you. And not just because of the oxytocin."

“Hm.”

“You know that, right?” Leorio says, propping himself up, a crease in his forehead. He scans Kurapika, frowning, then says slowly, “I love you. I need to know you know that.”

“I know,” Kurapika says softly. He swallows hard, then clears his throat. “I’ve known for a long time.”

Leorio just looks him over, unconvinced. Kurapika looks back at him, mouth flat and hopefully steady, face locked to stillness. Something Leorio sees must reassure him, because he settles back, expression easing, and says, “Okay, well. Good.”

He pulls Kurapika close again, nuzzles up close to him. Then he says quietly, “You, uh. You wanna do that again sometime, right?”

Kurapika’s breath catches in his throat. Such a cliche, but thrilling still, making his veins electric, a white-hot heat filling his chest.

When he doesn’t reply, Leorio glances at him, then starts to grin, wide and fond and smug. Kurapika frowns back, then sees it. A slight hint of red, catching along the curve of Leorio’s cheekbone, his nose, reflected in two little pinpricks in his eyes.

Nearly, he pulls back, then sets his jaw and stays where he is. 

Leorio just laughs quietly at him, then settles a hand on his waist. “You’re still all worked up,” he says, pulling Kurapika close, other hand sliding between his legs. “C’mere.”


	7. “Be kind to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No additional warnings apply

He finds himself in Leorio’s apartment as much as his own, these days. Many of his possessions are now duplicates: shoes, toothbrushes, clothes. Hard to say he minds. If there is a constant, it is that he has a welcome here. Asking for things is a much simpler process. Some days, he thinks, he might even be happy.

It’s a strange thought, and startles him one day while he is working in the living room, Leorio in his study. He turns it over carefully, hands still on the keyboard, then he finishes the email he was writing, and considers the rest of his inbox. Nothing pressing, and all things he could easily work on later. He sends one last email, a notification that he will be taking the rest of the day off. Then he shuts his laptop and goes to the door of the study, choosing not to examine the impulse.

Leorio knows he’s there, but he knocks anyway. There’s a grunt of acknowledgment, but Leorio does not turn around.

“I have what might be an odd request.”

Leorio pauses, then glances over his shoulder, much chewed pen still tapping against his lower lip. “Okay, shoot.”

“Will you take me to bed?”

A brief flash of surprise passes across Leorio’s face before it gives way to something smug and fond and sly; a crooked grin, a softness in his eyes. “If you think that’s an odd request, then I have got some news for you, buddy,” he says, starting to stand. 

“And will you— Be kind to me.”

Leorio drops back into his chair, surprised again. Then, quietly, he says, “Yeah. Of course. Of course I will.”

A reasonable and expected response. Kurapika exhales heavy and slow anyway, relieved without being able to say why.

Leorio is watching him, head slightly cocked, mouth pressed flat and wide, considering. Then he says, “Hey, c’mere.”

Kurapika eyes him warily, doesn’t move. Leorio sighs, rolling his eyes, then beckons him over with one hand. “C’mere, _please.”_

Kurapika rolls his eyes back, but approaches carefully, lets Leorio put both hands on his waist and draw him closer.

“Limited time offer,” Leorio says, teasing. “Today only. I’ll do whatever you want, okay?”

“You don’t have to—”

“Oh, but I’m gonna. Whatever you want. Whatever you need.”

Kurapika’s face is heating up, though there’s no reason for it to, chest tightening without a good reason why. “You don’t have to,” he says again, embarrassed.

“You keep saying that,” Leorio tells him. “So I’ll keep saying I’m going to. But can I take care of some things first?”

“Of course.”

“Go wait on the couch, okay?”

He does as he is asked, sitting at first, then lying down to take up the entire space. Meanwhile, Leorio is doing something in the bedroom that involves a great deal of rustling. A drawer opens, then shuts, and there is more rustling before Leorio returns to the kitchen and begins rummaging industriously around in a cabinet.

“Should I be concerned?”

“Watch your TV, already!”

Kurapika refrains from pointing out that he is not watching anything, then folds his hands and shuts his eyes to wait. No sense in overthinking it, but he can't deny he is curious. 

It feels like an eternity later before Leorio returns to the living room, in an old T-shirt and flannel pants, to spread his arms and say, “All yours, for the rest of the day." Then he crouches and says, "Now put your arms around my neck.”

“I can walk.”

“Absolutely not. Come on."

Kurapika rolls his eyes, sits up again and leans forward to loop his arms over Leorio's shoulders.

"Awesome. Up we go.”

Strange to be carried when he could walk perfectly well on his own. But it’s Leorio who is carrying him, so… it is strange, but not unpleasant. He glances around, curious at the unusual vantage point. It’s not the height, but the disconnect that makes it strange.

He clasps his arms tighter around Leorio, who is turning to shut the bedroom door behind them. The room itself has been tidied, curtains drawn and sole light set low, a glass of water on the nightstand. Then he brings them to the freshly-made bed, gently settles them both down onto it.

“Your bed, sir,” Leorio announces, exaggerated and grandiose, like hotel rooms and decorated hallways, expansive foyers, unearned money. It pulls something tight in Kurapika’s chest.

“Not like that,” he says quietly, and Leorio glances askance at him, but settles one hand alongside his face and says, “Sure.” 

Then he leans in to bump his forehead against Kurapika’s, and says, “I’m gonna be so good to you.”

“You already are.”

“Shhh. Even better. You won’t even know what to do with yourself.”

Kurapika bites his lip to keep from making another retort, says calmly, “Then I look forward to it.”

Leorio’s expression changes in an instant. “Come on. Kurapika, seriously. That’s so much pressure.”

“You’re good for it,” Kurapika says, turning to straddle him, settling firmly onto his lap.

Leorio snorts to himself, leaning forward to burrow his head against Kurapika’s shoulder. Then he stops and takes a fold of Kurapika’s top between two fingers, and gives it a tug. “Nice shirt. Lemme guess what it’s made of.”

“It’s on the tag, isn’t it?” Kurapika says, trying to turn and reach for it.

“Shh. I’m gonna guess.”

Kurapika twists back around, looks at Leorio’s face, and says, “It’s a joke. You’re going to tell me a joke.”

“Boyfriend material.”

Absurd. But Kurapika laughs as Leorio kisses the side of his neck, over his collarbone, and unbuttoning his shirt to continue down his chest.

Leorio hooks one finger into his waistband, then pulls him close, mouth pressed against his neck. This is sufficiently distracting that he doesn’t notice Leorio pulling down both his slacks and underwear.

“Help me out here,” Leorio says, tugging, and Kurapika draws his feet up, kicks them clear, slides his shirt the rest of the way off for good measure. When he presses close, Leorio loops one arm around his waist to hold him steady. Then he leans them both forward.

“Down,” he says, gently pushing Kurapika back. “Lie down, I wanna…”

“What?”  
"Just lie down, okay? I wanna uh. You know.” He licks his lips pointedly, glancing down, then leans in to press his mouth against Kurapika’s stomach.

“Be more specific.”

“I wanna go down on you,” he says, punctuates it with a kiss to Kurapika’s hip, then another. “I wanna put my mouth on you and make you come. I’m hungry, and I wanna eat out.”

Kurapika swallows hard, manages, “You’ve made your intentions clear.”

“Thanks. Do I get a prize?”

Kurapika winds his fingers through Leorio’s hair, tips his hips slightly, mouth suddenly dry. “Take what you like.”

Leorio glances up at him, considering, mouth still against the inner crease of his hip. Then he licks upwards, teeth briefly scraping the curve of Kurapika’s hip, and says, “Whatever you say.”

He starts lightly, a brief press of his lips, a flick of his tongue. Then another flick. Then another, and another, testing and teasing, followed by the warm wet slide of his lower lip. He gives up trying to catalogue them, loses himself in the touch of Leorio’s mouth, his tongue, hot and all-encompassing. His hands, firm and heavy. 

Embarrassing at first, to be the center of so much attention. Especially when he’d done nothing to earn it. But Leorio is running hands over his skin, mouth greedy against him, occasionally gasping before continuing to lick and suck at him, delving tongue and soft lips.

Kurapika grits his teeth, body arching as he crests, then collapses back to the bed, gasping.

Leorio sucks at him one last time, gently, before he sits up and back. He wipes his mouth before he shuffles upwards on the bed to lie down next to Kurapika, who turns towards him, begins tugging at his shirt.

“You do know how to use that mouth.”

“I’ve got a bunch of other skills, too,” Leorio says, shirt discarded and stripping off his pants. He is already erect. “Lots of hands-on applications.”

Kurapika keeps his gaze at shoulder level. “Just your hands?”

“Nah. I’m multifunctional, baby.”

Leorio presses closer to make his meaning clear, and Kurapika shifts his hips slightly to meet him, sliding his feet along Leorio’s calves, laughing when he sputters. 

Leorio touches him sweet and slow, stroking him gently, for all that he’s already wet. When he reaches for the nightstand, Kurapika takes his hand, places it back on his own hip, and Leorio says, “Sure,” and pulls him closer.

He’s ready for it, only betrays a slight gasp as Leorio slides into him. Easily, no hesitation. Good. Kurapika runs his hands along Leorio’s back, then pulls him forward to fit as closely as he can. He tries not to moan, since it is embarrassing still the lengths Leorio can drive him to, but as Leorio presses into him, it becomes harder and harder to keep silent. He folds both hands behind Leorio’s neck, curls inward to press his face against the heat of Leorio’s skin.

“Want to turn?” Leorio says, and Kurapika turns towards him, manages an inquisitive sound. “Want to turn over, and I can fuck you over the bed?”

He nods, nearly regrets it when Leorio slips free of him, but nearly as soon as he turns, there is one hand sliding over his groin, palm firm against him as two fingers slip back to stroke him open. Then the press of Leorio against him, pushing further, further, until in one slick thrust, Leorio is deep inside him. 

Kurapika shudders, pushing back and mouth dropping open. It’s hardly new by now, the hot, hard press of Leorio against him, filling him, but each time he still— he still feels—

Each time, he wants more. 

He grits his teeth as Leorio shifts inside him, riding him slow, palm still pressed to the mound of his pelvis. It is not so long before Kurapika is pleading with him, breathless and desperate and wanting. Something new each time: a short sharp pull that arcs his head back, a hand settled hot at the back of his neck, teeth on his shoulder, gentle but firm.

Leorio settles both hands at his hips. “Hold on.”

‘To what?’ he doesn’t ask, only gasps instead, fingers curling into the sheets. He doesn’t want them in the sheets, he’d much rather have them over Leorio’s shoulders instead, curled around the back of his neck, clutching uselessly at the air as Leorio holds his wrists down—

He cries out as Leorio thrusts into him, nearly buckling, face dragging against the bedsheets. He spreads his legs as wide as they’ll go, but it’s not enough.

“Please,” he gasps, trying to turn onto his side. “Please, please—”

“Do you want to be on your back?”

“Yes,” he rasps, word torn out of him. He wants whatever it is that brings Leorio closer to him. Again, Leorio pulls out of him, and again, he nearly whimpers, bites his lip instead, trying to lever himself up so he can turn.

Leorio gently settles a hand on one of his shoulders, turns him over, then presses against him again, length of his erection settling between the folds of Kurapika’s body. Kurapika pulls at him, impatient, and Leorio leans in to kiss him deep and slow as he slides back inside. 

Kurapika’s mouth opens to his, fingers digging into his hips. Leorio should be deeper inside him. He brings his knees up, fingers lacing behind Leorio’s neck. 

“Oh?” Leorio says, tone warm with interest as he runs one hand along the back of Kurapika’s thigh. “Is that how we’re doing this?”

He takes his time, smoothing his hands over skin, before settling his hands behind Kurapika’s knees and beginning to lean. 

Kurapika squirms, which only makes Leorio feel as though he has swollen thicker, pushed deeper. Already, he is beginning to pant, Leorio’s hands two points of steady heat, pressing his legs higher.

“Come on, you’re flexible, right?”

He is that. He gasps, head tossing back as Leorio gently pushes his knees nearly to his chest.

“That’s it,” he says, warm and encouraging. “There we go.”

Kurapika nearly rolls his eyes at the absurdity of it, but then whimpers involuntarily, bites his lip. Hard to think of anything else with Leorio pressed against him, deep and full and there, any way he moves, if he even breathes. Then Leorio shifts his hips slightly, nudges against him, and he writhes in response. Or tries to. It only brings him that much closer, and Leorio that much deeper. 

He makes a sound, less a word than a squeak, and he covers his mouth as Leorio, ever an opportunist, pulls back and thrusts into him again. 

Kurapika bites back a moan, chest heaving and teeth digging into his thumb. Leorio gently takes his wrists, drawing his hand away from his mouth, then pins them to the bed.

“Okay?”

Hard to think past the thundering of his own pulse, the hot firm grasp of Leorio’s hands around his wrists, Leorio’s hips pressed against his. He strains experimentally, trying to lift his hands from the bed, and Leorio immediately begins to pull back.

Kurapika yanks his hands back down. “Leave them,” he gasps.

“I see how it is,” Leorio says, nearly laughing, but he leans, kisses the side of Kurapika’s neck and shoulder, grip still tight. He pulls back slightly as Kurapika gasps, eyes shut, and says, “You good? Stay with me.”

As if he could be anywhere else, folded nearly in half with his heels hooked over Leorio’s shoulders. 

“You’re doing so good,” Leorio says, voice warm in his ear, and he has never needed anyone’s approval, but it sparks something inside him. He scrapes his teeth along Leorio’s shoulder in answer, gasping with each shift of their hips, the press of Leorio’s body against and inside his. He is dripping, can feel it sliding down him to soak the sheets, the slick-wet sound and sensation of Leorio moving in and out of him. 

One of Leorio’s hands snakes down and goes tight in his hair, not to pull but to hold, and he leans in to press his lips to the side of Kurapika’s neck. It’s perfect, another sharp point of heat and pressure, and Kurapika grits his teeth, eyes shut, hips pressing up for more.

Then Leorio releases his hair, hand sliding down his chest to his side to settle at the small of his back, and he gasps. He is held between Leorio’s hands and his hips, kept in place as Leorio thrusts into him, pressing in and in and in.

He’s aware that he’s making the thin breathy wail that Leorio manages to elicit from him, hands clawing desperate over Leorio’s shoulders. 

"Ff _fuck,”_ Leorio groans, starts to pull away, but Kurapika clings to him, gasping. 

“More,” he manages, then bucks, head going back, one hand coming up to rake through Leorio’s hair. _“Please.”_

Leorio inhales harsh and loud, then he comes, thick and heavy inside Kurapika, only a burst of wetness and heat. Kurapika hooks one elbow behind his neck, searches out his mouth to kiss him, to feel the unevenness of his breath, the desperate working of his mouth. Then he shudders, Leorio still pressing inside him, mouth opening now against Leorio’s. 

He turns his head aside to catch his breath, Leorio settling heavy against him, then slowly pulling out. Abruptly, he is sticky and wet. He settles into the crook of Leorio’s arm, still breathing fast. Then, defiantly, he slings one leg over Leorio’s, settles in close. If he’s going to be sticky, then Leorio should be, too.

“Gross,” Leorio says above him, but he is stifling laughter, drowsy and slow.

He shifts closer, nudging his leg further between Kurapika's thighs, making them tighten momentarily as Kurapika tries to keep from squirming. He is oversensitive at the moment, but it still is… far from objectionable. He settles more firmly onto Leorio’s thigh, head nestling against his chest. 

A hand strokes his hip. “You good for one more?”

“Are you—”

“I’m trying to be a surgeon, I need to keep my wrists in shape.”

“Happy to help,” Kurapika manages, mouth dry, heartrate already starting to rise. He shifts one leg as Leorio’s hand slides along his inner thigh, then up to his hips, his sides, circling back to his legs and slipping between them. 

Leorio’s fingers slide into him easily; he is slick and yielding already. 

And sensitive. 

He is gasping immediately, mouth hanging open, eyes shut, forehead nearly pressed to Leorio’s chest. He jams his mouth to Leorio’s throat, trying to stifle the moan that drags out of him, already nearly insensate. 

Meanwhile, Leorio’s fingers are curling inside him, spreading and stroking and pushing harder, deeper. His body is arcing, though he did not ask it to. His head is back, hands fumbling along Leorio’s chest as though searching for something to hold onto.

And Leorio's hand keeps working inside him, building him up, pushing him over the edge of something—

Something blinding.

Then he is nothing but disparate sensations, the arch of a back, Leorio’s chest against his, hands clawing at Leorio’s shoulders, a voice— his voice, wavering and unsteady as he rocks against Leorio’s hand. 

Leorio continues to stroke him, even as he pants and squirms and swears.

“That’s it,” Leorio’s saying breathlessly against him in response. “Come on, I’ve got you.”

Another startling jolt, and he is whimpering, face pressed to Leorio’s shoulder to stifle himself first, then with his mouth open to take in the sweat on his skin, the heat.

There is a stinging in his eyes from either tears or sweat. Leorio could keep him like this, he is sure. At a constant roil of pleasure, like a pot left too long on the stove. 

He would lose his mind, most likely. He would promise anything, do whatever was asked of him, even beg, if it meant Leorio would keep touching him. His head goes back, mouth falling open, and he's gasping now, totally unable to catch his breath.

“I’ll take it easy on you,” Leorio murmurs above him after another crest, fingers sliding out, and Kurapika sags against him, equal parts relieved and disappointed. Perhaps another day…

He sighs deeply, shuts his eyes to consider it, face pressing against Leorio’s throat. One of Leorio’s hands, clean or clean enough, settles along his head.

“Good?”

Good in many parts; good as a whole. He nods, leaning into Leorio’s hand. His hair is gently raked back from his face, a palm pressed to his cheek. He presses back, tries a kiss but doesn’t manage to land it.

Leorio snorts quietly, fond and amused, strokes his cheek with a thumb. Then he leans in to kiss Kurapika until he makes a small soft sound, wriggles loose. Leorio lets him do it, only settles an arm over his waist. 

Kurapika sighs, curling against him. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. For anything you want."

“Thank you,” Kurapika says again quietly. He is warm and secure and cared for. It is more than he would have thought to ask for, and the least Leorio would do. 

“I love you.”

Kurapika opens his eyes, looks back at him, wordless. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I know—”

“I have given my whole heart to you,” Kurapika says abruptly. “I only regret that I couldn’t do it sooner.”

Leorio is staring back at him. “That’s not fair,” he says, sounding slightly strangled. “That’s seriously unfair, come on. I just have some boring ‘I love you’s, and you pull out _that?_ Come on.”

“I meant it.”

Leorio’s jaw works, eyes suspiciously bright. “I know. Yeah, I know you did.”

He bundles Kurapika close, holds him tight, and Kurapika shuts his eyes, leans against him. 

After a while, Leorio says drowsily, “Has anyone told you you’re kinda intense?”

“You have.”

“Yeah, but anyone else?”

Kurapika pretends to think it over. “No one. I’m personable and even-tempered. An excellent manager and coworker.”

Leorio laughs at him, then sits up and rolls him to his back. “You fucking liar!”

"You'll have to prove it," Kurapika informs him, then is kissed instead, which is preferable by far. Then kissed again, and again, until he pulls Leorio down to the bed with him, draws him close. 

Leorio settles onto him, a warm comforting weight. His eyes are drooping shut again already, so Kurapika simply holds him, and is held in return.

He shuts his own eyes, immersed wholly in the track of Leorio’s hand down his back, slow, gentle. It dims down some of the sensation, from a burning and restless desire to the steadier warmth of contentment. It is unexpected still, to be touched like this.

Or not unexpected, but a tentative and pleasant expectation, bright and new and cherished because of it. Perhaps he is becoming acclimated. Perhaps it will be good for him.

Some days, he is happy. Others, he is not, and they eventually pass. He loves someone who loves him back, unashamedly, without hesitation. All the distant edges of the map have become friendly suggestions and some memories that are fond, some sharper-edged that he is still learning to handle carefully. If he asked, there would be someone to meet him on each new road, in each new city. There is no one purpose pulling him forward, but many smaller ones, each in their own time and directions. With each task complete, always something new to follow.

It could be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Thank you as always for sticking with me through this, and for the kudos, bookmarks, and lovely comments <3, which I remain too shy to reply to most of orz. I hope everyone is staying well, and taking care of yourselves and each other.


End file.
